Work It: A Blog for Working Moms

"Work It" Has a New Home

2006-11-24T10:32:00.000-05:00

"Work It" now has a new home. We've packed our bags and moved to:
http://www.workingmomsblog.com

Please come visit us in our new digs. We're excited about the improvements to the site and can't wait to share them with you.

How Tolerant are you?

2006-11-17T09:02:00.000-05:00

By Debbie

I definitely think I’m more tolerant of bad behavior from my kids because I don’t get to see them very much (like any working mom). Lately I feel like every time I walk in to the babysitter’s house to pick the kids up, she has something bad to say about my daughter.

Last night, it was the fact that she broken a pair of pretend plastic scissors. It’s hard because I know I have very good kids, and my daughter is definitely not one to do bad things on purpose…I know (and she confirmed after I asked her) that she was trying to get them to open wider so that she could cut more. But you would think after listening to my sitter that she had deliberately broken them.

I also have a very important philosophy that my mom never had with me: I am always on the side of my children. I know that they will screw up and I will deal with those times, but I want my children to always know that they can count on me to stand up for them. My mom was the opposite…if something was wrong at school (even high school) it was never a problem with the teacher, it was a problem with me, and I vowed that I would be the complete opposite with my kids.

I had a hard time because I know my sitter wanted me to deal with this…punishment, apologizing; the whole deal. But I didn’t really think it was as bad of a situation as she was making it out to be.

I talked to my husband about it when I got home and we came to two conclusions:

1.) We know that we are excellent parents and have learned what is important and not important when it comes to the lessons we teach our children, and

2.) we only get to see our kids for a couple of hours each night, and we really don’t want to spend those hours fighting with our daughter over something we didn’t think was a big deal. Now please don’t get me wrong, we discipline the kids and make sure they are learning the lessons we think are important, but like I said earlier, we have REALLY good kids!

Do you ever find yourselves letting things slide because you’d rather keep peace during the few hours per day you get to spend with the kids?

Tim the Toolman Taylor need not apply

2006-11-15T09:30:00.000-05:00

By Jessica

We purchased a home about a month ago. We knew that there would be improvements to be made, but for the love of Pete, I did not realize it would be this many.

I am currently working from home, thank heavens I have that option, while I await the plumber. This is one of the many perks of my job that I am truly grateful for. That and the paycheck to cover all of the cash I will be giving this person when they are finished up here today.

The stress of going through each room of the house, making a list of what needs to be done, and then crying over the checkbook balance when you are finished could drive a person to drink. I keep telling myself this is an ongoing process and we will be so pleased with the results but the other voice in my head that keeps saying " bye bye money" is drowning it out.

You would think that with my project management skills I use at work I could effectively manage my home renovation. You know sit down, layout an action plan, schedule dates for install, and order the equipment same thing I do everyday at work. For some reason my skills seem to shut off at 5:00 pm. I wonder if I promised to pay my brain overtime if would stay focused till at least 7?

Jessica is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Creative theme for a kid's party

2006-11-12T13:24:00.000-05:00

By JenMarie

My little boy turned one recently. We really struggled to decide on a party theme. Jack isn’t into any particular character or show. While we were wandering through the party store, hubby bursts out with "Let’s do an Ohio State theme party!"

I thought, "Cool, that's different!"

I ended up making invites and we bought scarlet and gray decorations since we couldn’t find many OSU specific things. I did find some OSU Mylar balloons and tattoos for the kids though.

The OSU theme was a resounding success, everyone had a blast. My brother made buckeye necklaces for all the kids, which they LOVED. Even my brother-in-law - the biggest Notre Dame fan there is - loved it.

Jack needed no coaxing with the cake. He took one look and dove right in, as evidenced by the picture. Big sister Sydney is to his left trying to restrain him.

JenMarie is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Settling in

2006-11-05T17:52:00.000-05:00

By Julie

We've moved: twenty odd hours away from our families, twelve from our friends. We've moved to a new town, a small one, where we don't know anyone, finally have our own house, and are busier than we've ever been.

We still haven't settled in.

How long does it take? I keep asking myself, even though I did this same thing seven years ago. Of course back then I didn't have a child who missed her friends, preschool teachers, and her old house. I didn't feel her pain as miserably as I feel my own, as I've come to the realization that settling into a new place, no matter where it is, takes a while.

I've enrolled my daughter in ballet, but she can't talk to any of the other children because she's busy learning. I take her to library story time once a week, and even though she plays with some of the children, it will take her a while to get to know them. We will have to enroll her in preschool fairly soon, as I'm teaching two classes at the university in the spring instead of just one, so that should give her a chance to meet some kids as well, even if she's only attending part-time.

Sometimes she's sad. Sometimes I'm sad. I, too, miss my friends. I miss seeing other adults every day. This is the first time I've been home more than I've been at work, and though it's an adjustment, I'm happy to have the time to watch my daughter grow. This is the toughest transition she'll ever have to make. It's the toughest transition anyone could ever make: getting used to something new because you have to.

Julie is a Work It Writer. Read more about her.

Retail "therapy"

2006-10-27T14:13:00.000-04:00

By Amy

The "Dollar Tree" is my parental oasis in the sea of retailers luring my eager-to-spend daughter's heart. It takes an hour sometimes to spend the $2 she is allotted. But it is an hour well spent. Somewhere between the joy of complete sentences that came with age three, and the "please be quiet for just one minute" angst that comes with age four - the retail madness began.

We walk into any store and she's picking things up and shoving them towards me. "Mommy I wannnnttt this," she whines.

Where did I go wrong? We've done our best to set limits. But alas, I find myself giving her the "money doesn't grow on trees" spiel.

As she turned four recently, we laid out some new chores and an earning system. She will have to officially do a few things around the house in order to earn her own money. She seems thrilled to have her own little set of responsibilities. (The cats are equally excited, as she gets to feed them daily and I think she's sneaking in extra food!) And hopefully she'll come to really appreciate the money she earns. We've told her she'll have to put aside 25% of each "paycheck" into savings (a.k.a. the little pink piggy bank).

I admit I am anxious to see how she'll choose to spend the money. I imagine us standing at the Target checkout counting dollar bills together for a Polly Pocket or two, or three.

Do you have an allowance system in your family? Does it seem to help educate your child(ren) about money?

Amy is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Sisterly Love

2006-10-22T13:43:00.000-04:00

By Amy W.

When I became pregnant with my second child, I knew it was another girl. I don’t know how, I just knew. And I part of me was a little jealous for my older daughter. She was going to have the sister I never had. I grew up with a twin brother who was more interested in playing with his army men then playing store or school with me.

Then the worry set in. Would they get along? Would they truly love each other? Would they call each other on the phone late and night and giggle over their latest dates when they were older and out of the house?

When my second daughter was born, my oldest was 2 1⁄2. Everyone kept telling me that was the perfect separation. And for the first couple of months, things were great. The baby slept a ton and was in general easy. My oldest would notice her when the baby cried or when I was holding her. Other than that, it was as if sometimes the baby wasn’t even there.

Now the baby is moving towards toddler hood and is almost 9 months old. Old enough to pull the hair of my three-year when she gets close enough. Old enough to grab her sister’s toys and put them in her mouth when she got them. Old enough to annoy regularly annoy her big sister. And my oldest isn’t much better. She is constantly ripping toys out of her sister’s hands and giving her hugs that she should only give adults.

Then the other day, it just happened. My youngest was in her ultrasaucer while my husband and I were trying to get groceries out of the car and make lunch at the same time. Then she started to cry. My three year old ran up to her and said, “I’m here, you’re sister is here, it’s okay.” Finally, she showed her sister the love I was waiting to see. She really does love her sister.

Amy W is a "Work it" writer. Read more about her.

A Letter from The Management

2006-10-17T15:36:00.000-04:00

By Marijean

Dear STL Working Mom:

We are writing to notify you of some items that have recently come to our attention. We feel strongly about bringing these items to the forefront so you may address them. Please know that we do this because we CARE (Can Always Rescind your Employment.)

Work habits
Our sources tell us you have been working many more hours than required, of late. We’ve also heard about a little game you call “work chicken,” where you competitively work as hard, long and fast as you can to see if you can do more than anyone else you know. While we appreciate your competitive nature, realize that better is not always equal to more. Take a break.

Family
Is it true that you blew off deadlines for not one, but two school fundraisers? We also understand that on a recent Monday, you were not even aware until the last moment that the kids had the day off of school. And, what about those dentist appointments you’ve been meaning to make? Get on it, Mom. The kids would like to keep their teeth.

Personal care
Our records show that recent lunches have consisted of a) nothing b) a handful of chocolate chips c) two Altoids and a cup of coffee. Please know that regular meals are encouraged and are entirely possible with a little planning and forethought.

Personal appearance
Frankly, we’re aghast at how far you’ve allowed yourself to backslide. Our sources report that recently you went shopping at Sam’s (we’re not even going to go there) wearing sweatpants. Since you’ve been working at home, you’ve managed, for the most part, to keep up the wardrobe, but recently we’re puzzled by some of the ensembles you’ve thrown together. What are you thinking? Not to mention your complete disregard for the fact that you frequently display VPLs. In addition, we’ve noted that you are long overdue for a hair appointment. Pull it together; you can do better.

It is your responsibility as a working mom to get ahead of the game, to balance all aspects of life and still make time for yourself. If you suddenly appear to be falling apart, what will the other, young, working moms think? You owe it to them and their future as successful working moms to get organized, eat well, sleep a full night, work hard and look good while you’re doing it. You can do it. We’ll check in with you again in 30 days to evaluate the progress you’re making. Remember, we do it because we CARE.

Sincerely,
The Management

Marijean is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Guilty Pleasure

2006-10-12T10:26:00.000-04:00

By Coletta

I have a confession to make. I'm addicted to kid's music. I finally realized the extent of my addiction when my brother borrowed my car and the only selection of music was a tape of little kid's songs that I play for my son. (And, yes, sometimes I listen to the tape on the way to work after dropping him off at the babysitter.)

Maybe it stems from the fact that I am the oldest of three kids and grew up in a neighborhood with tons of little kids with which to play and sing; maybe it's because the words are easy to remember and the tunes are soothing and entertaining. Either way I'm a sucker for "Pop Goes the Weasel."

I am having such a wonderful time re-experiencing these songs with my son now that he is learning to talk. He has always had a good sense of rhythm; he would move his bouncy seat in time with his Baby Einstein video but I am amazed at how well he remembers words and verses of songs. He is particularly fond of songs with accompanying hand gestures like "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "The Wheels on the Bus" and he loves "Bringing Home the Baby Bumblebee" which is alternately violent and amusing.

It means the world to me that Morgan enjoys these songs with the same fervor that I do. I have always been one to break out in to song at inappropriate times and I love that I can begin singing "Old McDonald" while I'm cooking dinner and two minutes later my son is marching around screaming "Neigh...Neigh" at the top of his lungs. We have a great time singing together and I'm learning to accept the strange stares I get from my husband for knowing all of the words to "There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea."

Coletta is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Am I Doing The Right Thing? YES!!!

2006-10-09T13:58:00.000-04:00

By Debbie

Recently I was driving home from the airport from a two-day conference that I had attended for work. I tuned to a local Christian radio station that was playing a syndicated call-in program with some music. As I was getting closer to home, the host introduced a psychologist that was going to talk about something that had to do with moms working outside the home. (I wasn’t really listening that well…still trying to unwind from my trip.) Anyway, he started his speech off by saying that he believed that working moms had their priorities mixed up (at this point he excluded single moms)…they were working because they wanted bigger houses, better cars, etc. He went on to say that the women need to re-evaluate their thinking and start staying home with their children.

I immediately became furious. As a Christian woman I have done a good amount of research on this very topic, and nowhere in the Bible does God say that moms must stay at home with their children and not work. Of course I had to call in to the show. The call-center screener answered and I told her that I knew she wasn’t going to put me on the air, but that I was very disappointed that they would air such a blatant, false statement.

The lady went on to say that studies have shown that kids in daycare are not learning conflict resolution properly and that it is our job to teach it to them. And that it’s okay if your children are in school or if you work at night. I asked her what the difference was between being in school and daycare and she just kept saying that when they’re young they need to be with their mothers.

Why their mothers? Why not their fathers? No one seems to be able to answer that one for me.

It’s hard, because I have a belief of what my job as a mother is to my children, and I’m fully confident that it complies completely with my religion. I know all of you practice different/no religions, and I’m sure you can put yourself in my shoes. I believe that I was given a talent (actually multiple talents, but one that people actually pay me money to do), and I believe that if I just put that on the shelf because I have kids would be disrespectful to both myself and to my God.

The worst part about this is that it raises doubt in my mind. I know I’m doing the right thing for everyone in my family, but as with 99% of all working moms, I have this little bit of doubt that creeps up every once in a while making me think that maybe I should be staying home…for the kids. Thankfully I’ve been able to push that doubt away very quickly when it appears, but I still hate that it keeps popping up at various times from out of nowhere.

Debbie is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

In a place called hope

2006-10-05T10:16:00.000-04:00

By Jessica

I have been mentally going through what needs to be accomplished this week and all I can say is I hope we get it all done. I hope for a lot of things. Some of this minor some of them major. Hope can be a blessing or a curse.

Around the office we hope we make our numbers. We hope that sales pick up. We hope that the equipment does not fail at the most inopportune moment. Most of all we hope that we have a job to come back to each day.

As a mother, I hope my children are healthy, happy and safe. I hope my boys grow up to be the outstanding men I know they can be. I hope they learn to take the good with the bad and run with it.

As a wife I hope my husband never stops loving me. I hope that my husband enjoys each day he has to its fullest. I hope my husband always looks at me with the same love in his eyes that he has today.

As a child I hope that my parents live to see their great-grandchildren born. I hope that my parents both know what they mean to me and how much of a difference they have made in my life.

As a friend I hope that all the lives I have touched know what they mean to me. I hope my friends are happy and without pain.

Hope is one thing that we should never lose sight of.

Jessica is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Mom-in-Law revisited - but not much longer

2006-10-01T09:25:00.000-04:00

By Penny

A year ago I wrote an entry about my mother-in-law moving in with us. I voiced my concerns and apprehensions at that time. Suffice it to say, she’ll be moving out soon. What’s really pushed me over the edge is a bit of a surprise, yet very relevant here.

I’ve noted before that I have an anxiety disorder. Of late, my anxiety has gotten much worse to the point of affecting my marriage, my relationship with my son, my work, and my health. I tried to politely explain to my mother-in-law that a lot of the anxiety stems from dealing with her uncontrolled anxiety, which affects the way she treats us and the way she responds to everyday stresses that come along with a family that includes two working adults and a 2-year-old.

There are definitely other issues, but this figured prominently. I explained that I am depressed and feel powerless to do anything. I just want something to change.

I outlined three options: 1) we get family therapy, 2) I move out, 3) she moves out.

My husband agrees that our home life stinks. Mom’s anxiety and behavior is affecting him in a negative way, too. He thinks that therapy is probably not worthwhile. He definitely does not want me to leave. Heck, it’s our house and we are very much in love with each other. So he asked Mom if she’d begin planning on getting out, and that we’d help in any way possible.

Her response was not one of love and understanding. She says that my problem is the conflict between being a mother and a career woman, and why should she be blamed for my problem? I’ve heard her make comments about how career women aren’t good wives and mothers. I thought after a year of living with us, she KNEW that having my career is what makes me a good wife and mother.

So today, I’m numb. I don’t want to go home. How can I cope with this? Help!!

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Confessions of a Teenaged Mom

2006-09-24T20:12:00.000-04:00

By Marijean

It's true; I was a teenaged mom. No more than one year and eight months from the day I graduated from high school, I gave birth to my son. I was nineteen, married, and scared out of my mind.

When I got over the shock of being pregnant, I settled into a "pregnancy must last forever" mindset. When it came to an end as I abruptly went into labor one evening (it was SuperBowl Sunday, 1990), I could not accept that there would be a baby at the end of this ordeal.

The entire labor scenario was terrifying. Yes, I had been prepared with childbirth classes, books like What to Expect When You're Expecting, and all manner of advice from the well-meaning people in our lives. The fact remained; I was a teenager. I panicked fully in the middle of labor, hyperventilating and looking wildly around the room, feeling as if surely now, I would die. A level-headed nurse got me under control quickly, forcing me to look into her eyes and breathe. She saved me, and I never got to thank her. I terrified my husband, of course. He was 19, too. After our son was born, he looked at me, still white-faced and said, "I didn't think there'd be so much blood."

Oddly, I opted for natural childbirth the second time around. The first time, all my classmates in the childbirth class told me that I should get an epidural, so I did. I didn't know how weird and uncomfortable that experience would be for me. I preferred to feel everything and never once lost control when my daughter was born. That experience, by comparison, was a piece of cake. There's something to be said for the second time around.

It's not often I share my teenaged mom status with people. Anyone who bothers to do the math comes to the realization independently. I'm 35. My son is 16. People have preconcieved (no pun intended) notions about those who had their children young. I don't like living with others' assumptions.

After my first year of college my son was born. It took me until he was two to get back to school full time. I finished when he was five. My husband and I, married when I was 18, he was 19, have stayed together through thick and thin. We're statistical anomalies. We've worked hard and a lot. Once we had our daughter, I started my career (before that, there were just jobs) and my husband went back to school. It took him eight years of part-time courses but he did it, and started his second career immediately after. The result of the investment in our futures has paid off; we both have satisfying, rewarding careers and two great kids who have witnessed firsthand how much we value education.

I've learned in this life how not to panic. I've learned that no matter how desperate or impossible life can be, there's a way to find focus, to work through it, to come out on the other side, better than you were when you went in.

This is my story. If it gives someone hope or helps them find their focus, then sharing it will have found its reward.

Marijean is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Battle lines

2006-09-22T15:32:00.000-04:00

By Amy W.

Just when I think everyone is getting along, something shatters the balance between working moms and stay-at-home moms.

An email was sent out to some moms that live on my street about setting up a playgroup for those kids starting kindergarten in 2008. My oldest daughter is included in that group of about 10 kids. My daughter already plays with two girls in the neighborhood who will go to public school with her. And their moms represent both worlds – stay-at-home and working moms. The email was to meet during the week during the day. This of course excludes my daughter since I work full time outside the home.

Why can’t we meet one Saturday a month, at a local park or museum or even just someone’s backyard? And why am I letting this bother me so much?

I have been trying to figure that out all morning. Is it the fact that my daughter is excluded from this special playgroup? Honestly no, she plays with many kids on the street and has no problems making friends. When new kids start in her school she handles it well. Is it that I am being excluded? I think I may be onto something.

There are many families on my street, and we all have different home situations – working parents, stay-at-home moms, work-from-home dads, Moms going back to school – and I feel like everyone understands that there are differences and those differences are okay.

Should it be okay that my schedule be considered when this playgroup is formed? I would hope that everyone’s schedule would be considered.

The Mom that sent the email out actually lives right next door to me and knows I work full time. Maybe to her defense she thought I would come home early to be involved in the playgroup. Or maybe she didn’t.

Bottom line, I am the type of person who wants everyone to be happy. I will go out of my way to do something to accommodate everyone. I guess I am just hurt that this wasn’t done for this playgroup. I feel like being excluded made that gap that seems to be disappearing between the working and stay-at-home moms grow.

Amy W. is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Party Themes

2006-09-17T12:17:00.000-04:00

By JenMarie

My little boy is about to turn a year old! Where did this past year go? We are excited to have his friends and family over to our house for his birthday party. I had a large first birthday party for my daughter, so we’ll do the same for Jack. If I remember correctly we had about 35-40 people at Sydney’s party.

We have been trying to come up with ideas for Jack’s birthday party. We’ve searched online and at the local party centers. We’ve asked friends and family. We’ve realized one thing…we have no idea what to do! I was hoping I could tap into your ideas and maybe come up with something really unique.

His bedroom is decorated in light blue, red and off white with sports bears and stars. He doesn’t really have any favorites that we could play off of. He isn’t into any particular cartoon or baby video, he does not have a favorite toy and he doesn’t seem to favor any game or sport. Granted, the kid is not even a year old yet so I wouldn’t expect much else.

Some ideas we are considering include John Deere, Baby Einstein, Winnie the Pooh (only because I already have a first birthday Pooh cake pan from my daughter) and random sports (baseballs, footballs, basketballs, soccer balls, etc).

I’m looking for YOUR suggestions and ideas…theme ideas, cake ideas, game ideas, etc. I am a fairly crafty person and take pride in my cooking and cake decorating abilities, so I am up for anything. I am hoping other working mom’s out there can toss me some ideas from their vast experience.

If you have a little boy or have been to a first birthday party for a little boy--heck if you’ve SEEN a little boy--I’d love to hear your ideas!

In return for ideas, I will post a picture next month of the birthday boy himself surrounded by the chosen theme!

JenMarie is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Reality Check

2006-09-14T14:31:00.000-04:00

By Penny

It is so easy to get caught up with life’s shenanigans that we forget that we are mere mortals. We get angry about work and frustrated with spouses and children (and mothers-in-law). Then something happens to remind us that all that stuff is small peanuts, compared to how great it is to even be alive and healthy and able to deal with it at all.

This may fall into the category of TMI – Too Much Information – but I think it’s relevant to working mothers (or any woman, mother, working or no).

I’m just a young punk, all of 34. I have one son (2-year-old) and am only recently married (Okay, so it’s five years in August). I’ve finally landed the career job that I want, live in a house I love, and am part of a community I enjoy. I’m busy, and the last thing on my mind is the possibility that something bad could happen to put an end to this wonderful time.

Then I found blood coming from one of my breasts. It took me about a half hour to realize that it could be serious. Really serious. It probably wasn’t really serious, but there was a 10% chance that it WAS serious, and I didn’t like those odds.

I spent a few days wondering about what I would do. What happens if I’m suddenly GONE? What about my son and husband? My parents? My research? My friends? My garden? My cats? Why don’t I have better life insurance? How will my son pay for college?

I thought about how foolish it is to get wrapped up in the trivial details of life. Enjoy the commute. So what if the guy cut you off? Be nice to people. Don’t sweat a dollar. Smile and say thank you to the server at the restaurant.

The good news is that nothing is wrong. Everything is normal – I think I just got kicked at some point by a flailing toddler and it caused a bit of bleeding. And now I can share horror stories of mammograms, ductograms, and ultrasounds with my older woman friends (and don’t have to go through that again for six more years).

I just hope I don’t forget the life lessons I learned. You never know what’s going to happen. Plan for tomorrow, but live for today.

Penny is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Sharing Me

2006-09-07T16:10:00.000-04:00

By Joy

Life at work has kicked up a notch and lately I am cramming more than my normal 50 hours into my 40-hour week. My life is so incredibly structured that the slightest balance shift in any facet causes overflow into all other parts. Work is spilling over into my home life and to keep it all together, there are rare occasions when I have to bring my children into the office with me. If I had remote access, I would have the luxury of over-working from the comfort of my home without dealing with the drama of brining my children into the office, but alas, that is not an option for me in my current role.

So, when I take my children into the office with me, I run down the list of ‘don’ts’.

- Don’t touch
- Don’t run
- Don’t yell
- Don’t breathe!

Then a few minutes after my last words, the guilt hits me. As a working mother, my children spend very little time with me as it is, and now they have to share the time that they do have with me with work as well. As much as I love working, I love spending time with my children even more and want to enjoy their childhood as much as I can. It is unfair now for them to suddenly have to share their allotted time me with the thing that allots them time in the first place.

I am working on getting remote access. There will be trials and tribulations with that line of work as well, but I think that if the trade-off is that I spend more time around the people and things I love, then to me it is not that much of a bum deal.

Joy is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

On Losing a Baby

2006-09-05T15:23:00.000-04:00

By Tracey

We were so excited that morning. After a miscarriage at seven weeks, we were quickly pregnant again, and the first two sonograms confirmed a steady heartbeat. I was starting to tentatively wear maternity clothes, mostly because I just wanted to, to prove to myself that I was really pregnant.

It was the 14-week mark, and we were heading to get the amnio. My mother came along, too, just so she could see a sonogram for the first time. When my older sister had her two children, sonograms didn't exist. I remember the medical building was all shiny blue glass, and reflected off a clear, blue sky, on a cold winter day. I was filled with hope and excitement and so many dreams for my first baby.

When the technician looked at the baby on the sonogram, I should have known something was wrong, but I was too caught up in my excitement to recognize the signs. She didn't point out the body parts to me, or tell me whether it was a girl or boy (I was dying to know). She just abruptly left the room and said the doctor would come in shortly.

A doctor who I had never met before walked into the room, took a look at the sono, and then broke the news.

"Your baby has very serious defects and cannot possibly survive. It will probably die within a few days. I'm so sorry."

I screamed. I'm not sure exactly what I did next, but I remember screaming, and the doctor, my mother and Fred ushering me into a small office and shutting the door. For my privacy, and probably to protect other pregnant women there from me, the embodiment of their deepest fears.

I remember feeling embarrassed that my mother was there. I wanted to show off my triumphant pregnancy, and instead I had to endure her efforts to comfort me, when I wanted no comfort.

At my obstetrician's office a day later, she told me I was too far along in the pregnancy to have a D&C and that I'd have to go through labor and delivery. In a way, I was glad. If I had to go through labor, that meant this was a real baby, and no one would be able to dismiss or minimize the death of my child.

The morning we went to the hospital, they gave me a valium to calm me before the pitocin to start the labor. It made the entire experience surreal, and I remember laughing and making jokes while Fred and I waited for the pitocin to start working.

Fred, meanwhile, was breaking down. He was suddenly seized by awful pains and spent most of the morning doubled over in agony. I knew it was a reaction to what was happening, but I remember hating him for it, and wishing he would have been able to be strong for me. But he was losing his baby, too, and the sadness had no outlet for him but physical pain.

There was a little crib in the room and I do remember Fred promising me that next time, we'd have a healthy, pink baby to wonder over in that crib, and pick up and hold through the night.

A couple hours later, my water broke and my doctor came in and delivered my baby. I felt a wrenching pain, I pushed and the baby easily slid out. It was over. I knew from books on loss that it was important that I see the baby, or I would run the risk of forever imagining that she looked like something too scary to see.

Still, the nurse didn't want to show the baby to me, but I insisted. Wrapped in a hospital blanket, she put her in front of me for just a few seconds. I remember looking at her perfect little nose and soft skin. Later I learned she was horribly deformed below the waist, but the hazy picture of her I keep in my head is of a perfect, sweet face.

I should have held her. I wish I would have held her. But they whisked her away so fast and I didn't have the strength or maybe the courage to do it. And I should have had them take a picture of her to keep. They offered to. But something held me back.

I did insist that we have her cremated, and a local Rabbi gave me some readings so that we could have a ceremony to help us grieve. The cremains came in a small, rectangular white plastic box, marked "Baby S" that Fred still keeps in his dresser drawer. Despite how small she was, there were bits of bone remaining in the ash, and we buried her in the backyard, in the hole we dug for a cherry tree to plant in her memory.

I was numb for a month, and started hating myself, wondering who the hell did I think I was that I could actually be a mother? I felt like I didn't deserve it. And I hated all the pregnant women I saw or read about. When I held a friend's newborn baby girl, I had the urge to throw her from the terrace. I couldn't stand the joy she was bringing someone else and it only magnified my misery.

I gave birth to my twin girls about 18 months later, and take a picture of them every year on their birthday in front of that cherry tree. When we bought the tree, the nursery said it would never bear fruit because you needed two trees to pollinate each other.

But each spring, the white flowers come, and then the shiny green fruit, which barely has time to ripen before the birds and squirrels pick the tree clean.

Gone too soon, like the baby I would never hold. But sweet and beautiful and miraculous, like my living children, who dance and sing and fling stuffed animals into its branches , filled with a childish joy which now fills me up and helps me bear the loss of Tessa, my firstborn.

Tracey is a "Work It" writer. Read more about her.

Challenges of a Remote Worker

2006-08-22T09:03:00.000-04:00

By JenMarie

For many people the idea of working from home would be a dream come true. For others the isolation and need for self motivation would be too much to bear. Over the last eight years I have had the option of working from home occasionally, but a little over a year ago I changed jobs and now work from home full time. Overall, I would not change it but I have encountered some challenges I was not prepared for.

The biggest challenge I face as a remote worker is knowing when to quit. I find myself turning on the computer within minutes of waking and am often still working long into the evening. It is so easy to just log on to check email quickly and end up working for an hour or more. Of course when the children arrive home each day the computer gets turned off but within minutes of getting both into bed it goes right back on.

Another big challenge for me is contacting people. Thankfully, my company has about 40% remote workers, but that still leaves about 60% at our home office. Many times I need to speak to someone urgently and am unable to locate them, after trying office phone, cell phone and instant messenger. I find it very flustering to have to wait for someone to make time to get back to me instead of being able to physically track them down and get the information I need.

A challenge I did not plan for is my exposure (or lack thereof) to management. I do not have the ability to form those day to day non-work relationships with others in the office. Not sitting the office means it is easy to forget about me when new opportunities arise. I find I work twice as hard keeping myself visible to upper management. It is a constant challenge to find ways to keep my name out there.

Despite the challenges, I would not want to go back to working in an office full time. Working from home gives me the opportunity to use new remote working technologies such as video and web conferences. Even though I tend to work longer hours, by being at home the entire time I can break for a few minutes at a time to do things around here. The best part for me is the elimination of constant interruptions and distractions by others. I find I am much more productive at home than I ever was in the office. Yes, the isolation takes some getting used to, but it’s worth the trade off for me.

Any other working mom’s out there in this remote employee’s boat? What are your biggest challenges?

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Vacation All I Ever Want to....

2006-08-14T09:20:00.000-04:00

By Jessica

Coming back to work from a weeks vacation can be a frightening experience. The hundreds of emails and voicemails can become overwhelming. It almost makes you second guess even taking a vacation.

The first few days of your vacation are spent relaxing. No phone ringing off the hook. No urgent emails that you have to attend too. The most urgent thing on your mind is eggs or cereal for breakfast. The rest of your day is spent at an easy pace. Taking things in slowing without stress.

By day 4 of your vacation thoughts of work begin to creep in. You start to think of what may lay ahead when you return to the office. How many emails will I need to address? How many voicemails require my urgent response? How many fires will I need to put out? The tension in your shoulders begins to return. Time to head to the pool again.

The final day of your vacation is spent getting ready for the following week. You are back into the normal routine of preparation for what lies ahead. Backpacks and briefcases are packed. Clothes are laid out and lunches are made.

It's back to grid and planning for your next vacation.

Attachments

2006-08-11T13:33:00.000-04:00

By Amy W.

Right now, my 6-month-old daughter is totally attached to my husband. He is the one that gets the kids up in the mornings, breakfast fed, clothes on, and out the door to daycare. Oh, and he has to suffer through endless episodes of the Wiggles and the occasional spilled juice by my oldest daughter.

So by the time I pick the kids up in the afternoons, my youngest is tired from not really napping all day (6-month-olds should really sleep longer than two 20-minute catnaps during the day) and normally takes a nap when we get home. She wakes up, we eat dinner, and then soon after it is time to put on pajamas and go to bed. I feel like my bonding time is pretty much nonexistent. When we are at home in the evenings, I hold her as much as possible, not putting her down for anything, not even making dinner. I am absolutely spoiling her, but I miss her. I want her to be attached to me, not my husband.

But the same thing happened with my oldest daughter. As a baby, she loved her Daddy and of course said “Dada” first (but only because most babies say that first). She was Daddy’s little girl, but now is totally attached to me and I secretly love it. As annoying as hearing “hey Mommy” about 200 times a day is, I can’t help but smile. She tells her Daddy, “I’m Mommy’s girl” and them smiles coyly at him, all the while eating up the attention I give her. She may look just like him, but she is all mine right now. My husband and I take turns reading books to her each night before bedtime. If she had her choice, Mommy would do this every night. What do I do differently than my husband? I have no idea, but I am going to keep it up.

Amy W. is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

The Second Time Around, Part II

2006-08-09T07:18:00.000-04:00

By Megan

I guess it's been a while since you heard from me. My last blog was written in the wee hours of the morning due to a case of insomnia. I can tell you that some things about this pregnancy haven't changed at all. It's 6:00 a.m. on Saturday and I find myself sitting at the computer. I cannot sleep because I am unable to find a position that is comfortable for more than a couple of hours. Most days - by morning, I am aching all over. This morning, on top of it all, baby Fontaine has a serious case of the hiccups. So, once again, insomnia has left me with quiet un-interrupted time on my hands to write. (Hope it won't be another three months before you hear from me again.)

Today I am contemplating if we are ready to welcome baby #2. Everything from the practical (I've got to have the hospital bag ready by August 1!) to the more cerebral and emotional. And I am thinking of our readiness as individuals - myself, my daughter and my husband.

For myself, I can only say that I am ready to be done with this pregnancy and meet my new child. (The second time around is no picnic!) I want my body back, and I won't lie - I am looking forward to the day when I can have three beers and a fat, mayo-laden chunk white Albacore tuna sandwich. I seriously miss my weekends - unwinding with a drink (or 2 or 3) on Friday and having a beer with lunch every Saturday and Sunday. (My refrigerator is still stocked with the beer I had the day I found out I was pregnant. Good thing beer doesn't spoil easily. Thank you to that soul who refined the bottling process to such a degree.)

On the other hand, I worry so much about....well......everything. Isn't that one of the primary duties of parenthood - worrying? First, will the baby be healthy? Will the birth be easy? What trials and challenges with this child face? What physical injuries will this child endure? What emotional scars with this child have to overcome? Can I possibly love my second child as much as I love my first? Do I have enough love for two? What will I do differently this time around? How will I juggle a career and two children? How will we afford this growing family? How will I take my 8-week-old baby to daycare and go back to work? How? What? Why? The questions and worries are endless.......although there is some comfort in knowing they are normal. One day, one moment at a time - one of my many mantras.

As for my daughter, she has the same worries any kid would have. "Will you still love me the same? Will I still be special?" I have no idea how will she handle sharing the limelight with her sibling. She certainly seems excited. She is such a sweet and considerate child, and I am so worried that this monumental event in her life will have a profound effect on her personality. It breaks my heart to think that she might experience half a second when she feels less important, ignored, forgotten.

She was my first. There will never be another like her. I have solicited much advice on how to ensure she doesn't feel neglected. (Have been meaning to buy a book on the subject but never made it that far and, let's face it, I don't have time to read! HA!) I have certainly emphasized repeatedly how important her role is in all this. I have assured her that I will still love her just as much. I think the best advice someone gave me was just a healthy dose of reality - my first daughter is more than likely going to have some issues after the birth of her baby sister. There is very little chance she will make the transition from only child to first child with no bumps in the road. She is bound to have some insecurities. And it's our job as her parents to be there for her as she experiences them and guide her to the brighter side, help her find the rewards and the positives. One day, one moment at a time.

Then, there is my husband, the one perpetually calm and upbeat person who truly does take life one moment at a time. The man who has lived through nine months of very little sex, a lot of "do this.....do that", many sleepless nights (due to my tossing and turning) and much complaining (as we near the end of this pregnancy). He is the mountain in this family. If he has worries, he doesn't voice them and I am left feeling terrible for not probing him about them. Maybe he would like to talk about them but can't get a word (or complaint) in edgewise! (It's very likely.) I am at a loss as to what I would do without his patience and understanding and the healthy dose of laughter he brings out in me every single day. He is the high point of each day for me. There is no way I could have made it this far without him. How in the hell did I snag this man?

Overall, I guess we are the picture of a typical family expecting their second child. I think I just need reassurance, lots of advice and......to relax......take it one day at a time. So please......any good advice on making the transition from one child to two is very welcome!

Megan is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

A Refreshing Time

2006-08-07T13:39:00.000-04:00

By Debbie

This past weekend we were at the state fair. My daughter loves to ride the rides, and my son had a blast watching her! It was getting late and my son was getting really fussy, so I took him over to a darker area and just walked him in the stroller as he screamed at me. While I was walking, my mom called me, and she asked me if my son was fussy, and if I was crabby because of it (oh how my mom knows me too well!). I told her "yes" to both, and then she told me that she had a proposition for me....they would take the kids for a week. Again, my mom knows me too well! At that time I thought it was the best idea in the world...but now, 24 hours later, I'm not so sure.

Isn't that how it always is? I just can't get over how just a couple minutes away from my little "angels" and I feel so refreshed...I just wish that my head would remember that I really only need a couple of minutes, not a week like I so quickly agreed to. When my son was screaming a week didn't seem long enough, but they hadn't been out the door more than 10 minutes and I would have given anything to hear that screaming again.

What I need to remember is that I need this break, and I will be a better mom when I pick them up in five days...full-nights' sleep, less picking up around the house so more time for myself...I will be completely refreshed. I'm very grateful that I have a wonderful family that is willing to help me get a break when I'm feeling like I might be too worn out and I'm taking it out on my kids.

Now I just have to figure out how to last the next five days without my precious little ones attached to my legs!

Debbie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Do you speak teenager?

2006-08-04T11:01:00.000-04:00

By Marijean

When my son was very small, we were frequently tired at the same time. Since yawns are catching, we'd find ourselves "speaking yawn" and giggled over what we could sometimes not understand in a sentence delivered mid-yawn. "What's the matter," we'd say, when the other was perplexed by our sleepy speech, "don't you speak yawn?"

My son, now a driving teenager with a separate life and schedule from my own, has adopted the slack speech of a teen, unwilling to have others overhear and understand what he's really saying.

The other night, he called after band practice, which ended at 9 p.m. He wanted permission to grab ice cream with friends, promising to be home no later than 9:45 p.m. I agreed. It got to be 10 p.m. and he still had not arrived home. He called and delivered a story about long lines and another kid who needed a ride home. It turned out the kid lived much further away than he'd said, and it was taking much longer than planned to get home. He was calling from his friend's house, wisely not trying to call when he was on the road, in the dark.

He knew he was in trouble, despite keeping us in the loop regarding his whereabouts. It was a weeknight, late, and he's a new driver. Plus, statistics have warned us that male drivers do much worse when their passenger is another male. To that point, on his driving instructor's advice, we'd so far only allowed him to have female passengers.

Before he hung up, he said a word I've never heard before. "Ahluhoo." Once I realized that he was trying to tell me, "I love you," my heart warmed and I knew I'd just be glad to see him safe at home.

Marijean is a new "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Thank you, George

2006-07-31T13:02:00.000-04:00

By Nancy

Dear George: Thank you for signing The Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act in your rose garden recently. Your signature will create a national sex offender registry and will require states to list ALL sex offenders on their websites so that communities, law enforcement, and parents are given complete information. It will also require offenders to register BEFORE being released from prison and will require them to re-register in person, not by mail. Also, an offender will, now, be penalized more severely for not following the rules.

As a parent, I applaud your efforts yesterday, George. I know you’ve taken a lot of heat lately, and I’ll admit that I’m not a big fan. But, what you did yesterday was good, George, and I thank you.

Nancy

Nancy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Making myself a priority

2006-07-28T10:00:00.000-04:00

By Penny

Being a working mom is tough – we all know that. I love to work. I love my job. I love my son and my husband. These things take up basically all of my waking time. And yet, despite loving that which takes up most of my time, there are many times when I’m resentful and angry, and maybe a little depressed, that my life is not my own to live.

There are other things I want or need to do. I want to go back to guitar lessons. I want to do some gardening. (I LOVE gardening.) I’d like to read a fiction book that has over 100 pages and no pictures. But I can’t. Other things take precedence, and when I have the time (finally), all I want to do is sleep.

I think my husband is feeling much the same way. Lately our conversations center around the dearth of friends we have, how cool it would be to have a classic car to fix up, and how annoying all these new aches and pains are.

Yup, I think both of us are on the verge of genuine mid-life crises; and yet, we’re still pretty young.

So how do we get back to feeling good about our spot in life when we really MUST make things other than our personal needs a priority? We’re working on that. We just remind ourselves that we actually enjoy being together. We annoy our coworkers with tales of our son’s (mis)adventures and the various cute ways that he pronounces words. And we look forward to the day when letting our son ‘help’ us with our chores and hobbies will actually be, well, helpful.

How do you cope with the conflict between the immediate demands of work and home and the desire to indulge our personal needs and desires?

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Running

2006-07-21T07:33:00.000-04:00

Riding in the car to my in-laws home, I saw a man running towards me on the side of the road and I quickly ducked down. There was nothing special about this man, he wasn't wielding an axe or anything like that. In fact, I didn't even know him. This man running personified a promise I made to myself a few months ago. This fateful day was the day to start race training. Aah! The absolute horror!

If you look at my profile, you'll notice I wryly comment on my passing fancy, trying to stay in shape. Since the birth of my second child, I live with the Herculean task of getting back in shape. Every so often, we hear the horrible tales of parents leaving the hospital with the wrong child. For my two trips to the maternity ward, that was one of my biggest fears. Luckily, for me, I made it out each time with the right child. I seemed, however, to have swapped bodies with someone else. The body I came back with does not believe in the concept of muscle elasticity. The body I came back with is clinging onto all its familiar post pregnancy bulges like a man overboard clutching his lifesaver.

So getting back to the running man on the road, When I saw him running, my picture of my calendar flashed through my mind - Sunday, BEGIN RACE TRAINING! I should have woken up early to exercise, run, and start getting ready for my race. My inherent problem is that I never loved running, EVER. I started running two years ago at the suggestion of my gym instructor and because I had tried everything else with no success. I had to find a way of taming this shrew-like body, so I obliged her and started running.

You know what sucks? Running worked. I lost weight, I looked good and I felt good. Feeling good was nice feeling I had not had in a while. Even though it worked, I still hated running. I loathe waking up, putting on my sneakers and going out to pound the pavement. I don't experience a rush, get the runner's high, or any of the cool physical effects of running. I experience pain, breathlessness, and on occasion when I rush my warm-up a fablous searing side cramp. Because of my highly competitive nature, I train for races because the notion of being in a race and running with other people keeps me going.

Well, you know what I'm going to do tomorrow morning don't you? Tomorrow morning, I'm going to roll out of bed, put on my sneakers and go pound the pavement. I will hate it, pant the whole way, finally come home itchy and sweaty. But I will loose a couple of pounds by the end of the week and since my vanity is what's pushing me along anyway, I'll enjoy fitting comfortably in my clothes again.

So here's to running, the evil necessity of my life!

Joy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Jumping in feet first

2006-07-18T10:22:00.000-04:00

or may be it should say fingers first?

On an average I write anywhere between 50-75 emails a day. Some of these are short one or two lines. Others need to be well constructed and understandable. While I am able to complete a thought I can not spell worth a darn. If it were not for the most wonderful invention in the world, spell check, I would be out of a job. Yes I think spell check is the most wonderful invention known to man. It even surpasses the Wonder Bra. I know many a CEO, ok to be honest their Admin Assistant, who would sound like a bumbling idiot if it were not for spell check. It is hard to hold much respect for a person if the spell something like this. I meant to breek the meetin earlie but wee ran in two problemes alont the awy. Can't see a fortune 500 company hiring that CEO anytime soon.

Not that I am a position that high but I am required to be able to form a complete sentence without 32 misspellings. I do not have an assistant to proof my emails, letters or presentations. It would be nice but I do not see it in the budget. Spell check is free and easy to use. Well as long as you remember to use it.

Spell check is my assistant. Spell check is my friend. Without spell check I would be asking " would you like paper or plastic?" or maybe " would you like fries with that?"

Now if I could just get spell check to take notes during meetings for me. It would free up so much more of my time to complete important tasks. Paying bills online, checking the weather, and catching up on my soaps. Hmm I wonder if Microsoft has that in mind somewhere down the line. Maybe with Microsoft Outlook 2010?

Pure Poetry

2006-07-17T09:54:00.000-04:00

Ever since my girls were little, we've been reading to them, propping a baby on each knee on the glider while we imparted the infinite wisdom of "Goodbye Moon" or their babyhood favorite "Sleepy Dog."

You never really know until they get old enough to read on their own whether you're instilling in them a love for reading, but it's certainly a good way to stack the deck. I adored books as a child, and although I don't remember anybody but my older brother reading to me before I could on my own, I spent countless hours in my room from ages 7-17 poring over novels and comic books and Mad Magazines and Archie Comics and anything else I could get my hands on.

Considering I was once a reporter and editor for a living, it would stand to reason that one, or both, of the girls might inherit my love of poetry and novels and generally, the written word.

In fact, they have both already written full-length books. Lily's book "Where the heart goes" is destined to become a classic in my household (if not in the Library of Congress) and Jessica followed suit a few days later with her own picture book (both of which we've carefully stored and look forward to showing to them when they turn 25).

But a few weeks ago, Lily gave me a glimpse into her burgeoning soul, convincing me that I'm not just raising readers and writers, but poets and empathetic beings, too.

As I lay down in bed with her as she went to sleep one night, she turned to me, looked deeply into my eyes and said, "Mommy, your kisses are like honeysuckle in the field of love."

Now I know that's incredibly cute and precocious coming from the mouth of a newly-minted 6-year-old,but to me, it's more than that. It's an affirmation that Fred and I have been able to instill in these little beings the gift of expressing themselves in ways beyond the ordinary, and with a fervency that shows they are fully involved and in love with their lives.

It may seem to some like just a footnote to a sweet story, but to me, it's living proof that I'm a good mom.

Tracey is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Tough Enough?

2006-07-14T09:55:00.000-04:00

As the mother of a very curious and spirited toddler, I feel as though I am constantly teetering between being too lenient or too strict.

Today truly put my mothering skills to the test. My son accompanied me to a store to send a package. While I filled out the shipping label, my son headed directly to the play area. Initially I was pleased that there was a place for him to be while I completed my task. But when I looked over a moment later, I realized he was toting the plastic child-size chairs all around the store, sitting in them and then relocating them to a different vantage point.

As I mentally prepared to reprimand my son and have him replace the furniture; the sales person informs me that he made a mistake and must restart my order. I decided to hold my tongue, especially since we were the only customers in the store. My son was quiet, happy and using up some much-needed energy. By the time my transaction was complete, one small red chair was placed directly in front of the door and my son was sitting in the other one - getting ready to scribble on the plastic table. After replacing the furniture and returning the pen my son found, I thanked the clerk and collected my child wondering if we had properly used, or unfairly abused the UPS play area.

My son and I immediately went next door to the ice cream shop. I ordered each of us an ice cream cone, grabbed a bunch of napkins and sat down at a table. I spent most of my time wiping the neon-yellow ice cream drops from my son's face and reminding him to sit still. Meanwhile the little girl in the table next to us rocked her chair 'til it almost tipped over and dripped her ice cream everywhere. As my son laughed with the little girl; I felt like a tough, strict mom who can't let her child enjoy himself in an ice cream parlor. Ah, the irony. I'm the mother who, just 10 minutes earlier, let her son barricade the door to the packaging store with bright red furniture!

I hope that I'm setting reasonable expectations for my son and not taking away too much fun.

Coletta is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

What if?

2006-07-10T09:34:00.000-04:00

OK, I will admit it, I am a television junkie! I try to keep it in check most of the time, but it hits its peak in summer. Ah, summertime. The time when the networks fulfill my guilty pleasure for mindless TV. Don’t get me wrong, I am the one watching the news channels (in the background) all day, but when nighttime hits — my mind switches over to the latest episode I can lose myself in.

One of my favorite new shows follows a group of friends who have had their wildest dreams fulfilled—winning the lottery. Never having to worry about money, making decisions based on their heart and learning that the grass isn’t always greener. It has not only given me an hour a week to get absorbed in something other than my own life right now, but has gotten me wondering…What if?

What if that happened to me? What if money was no longer a concern?

What would I do? Would I travel to the all the places I’ve always longed to see? Would I choose to spend my time volunteering for the many organizations I support? Would I move from the house we so lovingly built less than a year ago?

Would I continue to be a working mom?

I have thought a lot about the last one. If I did not HAVE to work, WOULD I work?

I’ve thought about all the reasons (other than money) that I do work. I want to show my daughter that she can do anything she wants in life. I want to be a good role model for her. I have a job that I truly enjoy and that gives me great satisfaction.

I’ve also thought about all the reasons I would rather not work. I would love to have more time to spend with my children. I have numerous hobbies I do not have nearly enough time for. I hate, really hate, waking up to an alarm clock in the morning!

It’s easy to say that I would quit my job, but somehow think I would not be quite as fulfilled as I am now.

Obviously, this is just for fun seeing as how I do not even play the lottery!

I ask all you working mom’s out there…What if?

If your wildest dream came true, would YOU still be a working mother?

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Double the Work

2006-07-07T10:34:00.000-04:00

I have officially been a working mom of two for two months now. I had my second daughter in January 2006 and took off three months. In that three months, we moved from Virginia to North Carolina, started the girls in a new daycare, and I started a new job. Everyone always told me that two was more than double the work, especially working full time. Honestly, it hasn’t been as bad as people have said it would be. Yes, there are days I have to drag myself out of bed after being up with both of them at some point in the night, but as corny as it sounds, it is so rewarding. Both girls are thriving in our new home, and our daily routine is working quite well.

Speaking of routines, I thrive on them. I guess I have to with working full time and being a mom full time. Recently, we had my brother-in-law, his girlfriend and her 16-month-old to visit us for a weekend. My brother-in-law called prior to his visit to warn us. The 16-month-old wasn’t on any sort of schedule whatsoever. He wanted to make sure that was okay with me (I am really not that psycho, but obviously the in-laws think so).

She eats whenever, sometimes naps, sometimes goes to bed after midnight. “How,” I ask my husband, “does that work?” I just couldn’t imagine it. Plus, I am of the philosophy that kids, especially young ones, do better on some sort of routine as well. So the weekend went pretty well, since the 16-month-old pretty much adopted my 3-year-old’s schedule right away. Funny how that works…..

My 3-year-old came home from daycare last week saying “you get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit.” At first, I thought what a great saying. Then I got to thinking about it – do I really want my child to be happy with whatever she gets, no matter what? For now, yes, the saying fits. She gets only one glass of chocolate milk with dinner or she is read only two books at bedtime (otherwise I would be reading until midnight every night, but I do bend the rules occasionally and read three or four). But when do I teach her that she should speak up and demand what she wants? When is she allowed to “pitch a fit”?

Amy W. is a new "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Little Reminders

2006-07-03T10:10:00.000-04:00

I was sitting at work today, getting ready to dive into what needed to be done, and all of a sudden this little box pops up saying “Benefits Orientation in Five Minutes.” Shoot, I had forgotten that I had that, and worse - it was in the building next door. So I quickly gathered my things and headed over there.

As I was walking, I realized how much I depended on my calendar. If I didn’t have those little meeting reminders, I would miss 95% of all of my meetings. Luckily I can sync up my calendar to my pocket PC, so I have it wherever I go. I don’t even worry about checking out my calendar anymore because I know that I have these little “alarms” to tell me when it’s time to go and where to go! And for the more important things, I just set the alarms to go off a day or so in advance so that I am able to adequately prepare. Not having to worry about these appointments frees my mind up to think about other things that need my attention throughout the day.

Wouldn’t it be nice for moms to have the same type of thing? What if we never had to worry about the safety of our children? Think about how much time that would free up to be able to freely play with them! Or what if we never had to worry about whether or not they were getting enough sleep, or vitamins, or attention? If we never had to worry about this stuff because a little reminder would pop up telling what was needed and what to do, our lives would feel so weightless and laid-back…our “calendars” would do the worrying for us!

But there is no such “calendar”, and that’s why being a mom is so important. I mean let’s face it…if there was no worrying involved, our kids wouldn’t need us as much as they do (or our husbands for that matter)! As much as we complain about our “dependent” children, deep down we all thrive when we are needed. And there’s nothing better than that “thank you” from your child when you have just given them something they needed.

Debbie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Deadlines and Responsibilities

2006-06-26T14:08:00.000-04:00

The past month has been a madhouse for me. I’ve gotten behind on everything. Despite my best efforts (and my PDA) I’m still flailing for control. I need a vacation.

… Or do I?

The trouble is that I spent a week away from home. For a few days, I relived the freedom I had during single-times. I was social, had evening cocktails, played sand volleyball. I was out late and “slept in.” I was at a technical conference, and only missed one hour of the very last day (8 days of meetings). So I was responsible—and learned a lot to boot! It just turns out that continuous flow isotope ratio mass spectrometer operators are also a lot of fun to hang out with. It was very much a vacation for me.

When I got home, I was depressed. I didn’t want to have to take care of a cranky toddler at 5 AM. I didn’t want to deal with a snoring husband. I REALLY didn’t want to deal with my mother-in-law. I was angry and standoffish, and I feel bad about it now.

It took a week, but I think I’m more-or-less myself again. I still miss my short-lived freedom. Now, I’m trying to catch up on all the responsibilities I blew off while I was ‘free.’ Some things just won’t get done, but I should have most of my ducks in a row by Friday.

Do I think I’d be happier if I just ran away and had total freedom? No. Maybe another week or two would be nice. But then I’d miss my family, my cats, and my house. I’d miss my job, and I’d even miss the temper tantrums of my 23-month-old. Nothing worth having is ever easy, and what I have is worth all the work.

Plus, my son counted to ten BY HIMSELF this weekend. What mother would ever choose to miss that so that they could have a few drinks and sleep in? Not me.

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

"X"

2006-06-20T13:05:00.000-04:00

A blog can ask for advice, right? Do you know someone who just brings you down? Rains on your proverbial parade? Turns your smile into a frown? I have had a person like this in my life for the past nine years. I do not actively choose to have this person near me, as it is not a personal friend, nor a family member. Yet, I must spend a fair amount of time with them throughout the week.

I have tried long and hard to get along with “X”. It’s difficult. This person is well educated and highly accomplished in their field. However, I find “X” mean-spirited and lacking compassion for others. “X” finds great humor in other’s faults and physical shortcomings. I find “X” arrogant and judgmental and I’ll normally go out of my way to avoid contact of any kind. I will opt out of projects that I know “X” will be involved in. In fact, it's very rare that I speak directly to "X".

This is a source of disappointment for me. How can I advise my son to get along with others, when I can’t seem to figure it out myself? I tell my 12-year old to make friends with the other kids at day camp even if he doesn’t have much in common with them. Ask someone to play checkers if they don’t play sports….ask the new kid if he wants to trade something from your lunch boxes…etc. I am a grown woman with decent communication skills…why can’t I get along with “X”? How does one form a relationship when there is little platform to stand on? Maybe it’s just best to avoid “X” for the next nine years?

Nancy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Time for a second job

2006-06-12T21:52:00.000-04:00

I started looking for a new job this weekend. The decision to get a second job was a long time coming, in fact, I put if off for as long as I possible could. The threat of financial ruin brought me here. Okay, so I am not really that bad, but our monthly budget could definitely use some green assistance.

One would think that I would have come to this decision earlier, before my current state of dire straits. However, I was loath to consider this option because I already work full-time, I have two children, and have a boatload of all the other motherly and wifely duties. How will I pull this off? I am afraid of what this decision will cost me, I already feel like I am stretched too thin as it is. I am tired all the time and there are moments when I feel like I am part of the walking dead. I also chase away whispers of guilt, telling me that I am squandering the precious time I have with my family.

Then again, I am not that afraid. I know that by taking this step, I am taking a step towards financial freedom. I am excited at the prospect of working hard to get myself where I need to be. That is really all that is required of me. I am thrilled to know that one-day (some day soon!) I will be all right, and it will be because I worked hard. It was not luck (which is okay too!) or a handout, but just my hard work.

The bottom-line is that I am tired of being in debt and not being able to see past my bills everyday. It is my hope that by working even harder, I can catch-up and perhaps even get ahead of my despairing debt. In the dark of this despair, I also know that I am not the only one who is making determined strides at making her life better and that gives me hope. As I mentioned on mother’s day, I know that I do not walk alone.

Joy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Yes & No

2006-06-05T23:11:00.000-04:00

For some inexplicable reason my 18-month old son has forgotten how to say the word "Yes". He used to nod his head vigorously when he wanted to get down from his chair or get a glass of juice, but now his answer to everything is an emphatic 'No'. At first it was slightly humorous.

"Do you want to eat?", "No," then he took the sandwich. "Do you want to color?" "No," then he sat down with his crayons; but now I've taken to trying to interpret the difference between "No and NO!"---and that's no easy feat!

While I am vigorously trying to re-integrate the affirmative in to my son's growing vocabulary, I am simultaneously trying to remember how to say 'No' instead of 'Yes' at my job. I've been trying hard to be a good sport at work while they transfer me to a department in which I have no interest (or talent). I keep remembering all of the books that I've read about setting limits and holding my ground and I actually made a stand at with my boss. Two weeks ago I told him that I did not wish to be transferred but I would hold down the fort until a suitable replacement could be found. Time has passed and still no replacement. I want to be a good role model to my son and be a strong leader in the work place but I also want to come home and be happy (relatively) at the end of the day.

The one thing my son and I currently have in common is our recent perfection of the blank stare. When I ask him what sound a cow makes he responds with a resounding "Moo, Moo." When I follow that up with a question about a pig's sound, he just looks at me, cocks his head to the side and looks confused. I think that must be the exact same look I give my bosses when they ask me for a P&L report or to give them a list of open invoices. My bosses do get the reports they ask for but the blank stare is a constant accompaniment to every request, and all the while I'm thinking "No, no, no, NO!"

Coletta is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Sowing the Seeds

2006-06-02T23:58:00.000-04:00

We moved into our new home at the end of December, in the middle of the dead of winter and three feet of snow here in Cleveland. Because of the weather our builder had to wait to do the final grading on the land. They finally came out a few weeks ago and leveled it all out. We now have about one and a half acres of dirt that needs to be turned into a lawn!

There was no way we could have paid a landscaper to seed all that so we were on own to get it done. Our neighbor has been nice enough to rake over it to remove 75% of the rocks that are golf ball size and bigger. That still means we need to rake out the smaller rocks by hand, spread out grass seed and then cover it with hay. Sounds easy enough right? Not so much with a 3-year-old helping and an 8-month-old to entertain.

It has been weeks of her ‘helping’ mommy and daddy with the task of putting in grass seed and flower beds. Things aren’t so productive when she’s throwing the very rocks we are trying to get rid of back into the beds! We’ve had many a tantrum over how much hay should go on top of the grass seed and where it should go. Opinions have been shared on where the shrubs and flowers should be planted and how the hole should be dug. Quite the supervisor for only being three!

The pure joy on her face over being allowed to use the hose to give the plants a drink and getting to ride on the tractor with daddy outweigh the decreased work capacity created by her ‘helping’. We’ve done some analysis and have come to the conclusion we are approximately 40% less effective with one child ‘helping’ and the other requiring near constant attention or food when not sleeping.

At the rate we are going, we figure we should have a lawn by 2021, just in time for the 3 year olds high school graduation!

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Work Trips and Guilt

2006-05-26T12:54:00.000-04:00

I’ve just gotten back from spending the week away from home. It was a business trip. It wasn’t a required trip, but the work I did will help further my career. I have another trip coming up, same story.

I really enjoyed my trip – I’ve never had the opportunity to spend ‘quality’ time in Manhattan. I was delighted to discover that I was able to complete my work much faster than expected and I had a full day to explore the city. My next trip will be to British Columbia, during which I’ll have two unstructured days to explore – I can’t wait!

But there’s the flip side. What about my husband and son? Their daily schedule continues despite my being gone. They both need my support and attention, and here I am sitting in a high-falutin’ restaurant, on the Upper West Side, eating over-priced sushi. I’ve been sleeping late and watching TV while the husband spends the better part of his night taking care of a teething toddler.

I could come home a day early, but I decide that I can’t miss the opportunity to go see a movie and take a walk in Central Park. Despite assurances from my husband that I should enjoy this chance, I still feel guilty.

I’m sure this is the case with all working mothers who must travel. I could stay home, but then someone else will do the work I should have done, and may ultimately get my job. Is this guilt only in the realm of working mothers? Do working, traveling fathers ever feel that sickening guilt when they find themselves with an extra day on a business trip? I know my own father traveled a lot when I was little – did he ever feel horrible about it?

Meanwhile, I do the best that I can. I know I need to travel or my career will stagnate and evaporate. I am fortunate to have the love and support of a wonderful husband or I could never do this. And he takes trips, too. It’s a two-way street. So long as we love each other and love our son, we can’t go wrong.

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Scheduled or Surprise

2006-05-22T13:12:00.000-04:00

I strategize my earned vacation days at work. This is an art that I have become very good at it. I pick and choose them carefully throughout the year, trying very hard to maximize each one. I also make sure that I leave some unused…for unexpected circumstances. Some years have been better planned than others. I have a feeling that I’m the only one in my office who does this.

Everyone at my firm has children. Of the eight employees, six of them are men. (The only other woman in my office has grown children.) All six men have either a stay-at-home wife or a full-time nanny. They do not need to use vacation days to care for their children. This means that they usually spend their vacation days skiing or at the shore. I do not have a stay-at-home spouse or a nanny. Therefore, when my son gets sick or has a need, my husband and I must take turns using “surprise” vacation days. Of course, fevers and colds usually happen on the day of an important meeting or a deadline. Surprise!

Most of my “scheduled” vacation days are far from relaxing, as well. Let’s take next Tuesday for example. I have half of a vacation day scheduled. This will mean up early and to work on time. I will need to make sure that my afternoon tasks are taken care of before I leave the office at lunchtime. I’ll jump into my car and race out of the city to my home where I’ll quick-change out of a suit and into jeans. I am scheduled to serve ice cream at my son’s school at 1p.m. (I try to show up to at least one school function, so that his teacher knows that I exist…) Then I will race to a doctor’s appointment at 2 p.m. I also need to pick up my dry cleaning, have my brakes looked at, and swing by the municipal building. I’d like to be home by 3 o’clock, but something tells me I’ll still be “vacationing.” My next half-vacation day will be spent at the orthodontist. Can I plan a vacation or what? And without brochures!

I am not complaining. I spend my vacation time wisely. I love serving ice cream to fifth graders and I’m glad to take my son to his orthodontist appointments. Better me, than anyone else in the world. Plus, I get to do my share of traveling. I work for a great company and am fortunate enough to have plenty of earned vacation days to use as “scheduled” or “surprise.” But, I feel like a lone wolf in the office. The last time I was out of the office, a co-worker asked me if I had been out golfing on such a lovely day. GOLFING?!! Yea, right!

Nancy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

The birth of sarcasm

2006-05-15T10:08:00.000-04:00

sar·casm (sär'kăz'əm)
n.
1. A cutting, often ironic remark intended to wound.
2. A form of wit that is marked by the use of sarcastic language and is intended to make its victim the butt of contempt or ridicule.

[Late Latin sarcasmus, from Greek sarkasmos, from sarkazein, to bite the lips in rage, from sarx, sark-, flesh.]

Until recently, my twin almost-6-year-olds took the world at face value. They drank in new information, processed it as best they could, and then used it in conversation sparingly, haltingly, looking to us for guidance.

But the other day, I witnessed a conversation between my daughters that proved to me that a switch has been flicked to the "on" position in their brains, and they are fully capable of going out into the world and dealing with it on their own terms.

Herewith, a transcribed conversation:

Lily: Jessica, look at me (while attempting the Elaine from Seinfeld spastic dance in a desperate bid to get her sister's attention).

Jessica looks her sister up in down in silence, as Lily tries even more frantically to engage her in some play.

Jessica (to me, in a deadpan voice): Pathetic.

Me (shocked because I had never heard her say this word before): Jess, do you know what pathetic means?

Jessica: No. What does it mean?

Me: Well, it's kind of when you'll do anything to get attention.

Jessica looks back at her sister, who is oblivious to our conversation, and involved in a new contortion.

Jessica: Yup, that's right - pathetic.

Tracey is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

For the mamas

2006-05-14T11:27:00.000-04:00

In memory of Meme

You are a mother, not simply because you have children
But because you have allowed yourself to be transformed by love and grace
If you really think about it, you are never the same again in your heart
and in the eyes of the world
All may come and go,
But you are eternally a mother, now and forever.

So today enjoy joys of motherhood
They are blessings of God's eternal love and grace for us
Celebrate your children and your children's children (someday)
Cherish the mantle of natural motherhood,
for it's not as freely given as you may think

I'm glad I have so many other mothers in my life
Because it means that I will never walk alone.
This is my thank you to my family and friends
For those of you that I walk behind, I'm grateful for the footprints
you've left,
I always look to them for guidance
For those of you who walk alongside me, I'm grateful for the company,
I know that I will not go insane alone!
For those of you who walk behind me, I'm grateful for your happiness,
Because it reminds me of what a great gift I have, and what great joys
I've experienced

Kudos to all the mamas!
Happy Mother's Day to you today,
And may God grace us with many more!

Joy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

A Mother's Fear

2006-05-12T09:01:00.000-04:00

Some days I fear that my daughter will one day stop loving me. I fear she'd stop wanting to be around me, the lady ruler of the house. I don’t get that vibe from my son, because at two-and-a-half, everything is a great big party for him. He’s excited when I drop him off at daycare and he’s equally as excited when I pick him up. His greatest joy is when I let him get in bed with me in the morning.

My daughter on the other hand, I realize every day, is wiser than her five-and-a-half years. I know she can tell when I’m not listening to her on the ride home. She’s reluctant to leave daycare where she can have fun with friends and patient teachers to come home to rules and limitations. On the weekends, it’s like she never wants to stay home, instead always asking to go play with the little girls next door or when her next sleepover at Grammy’s house will be.

I fear my daughter will stop loving me because I’m just not fun. I’m mom, the lady who lays down the law, the lady who can’t be late to work, and the tired lady who can’t always play because she’s cooking dinner. “No you can’t have that much candy”, and “no you can’t stay up late.” I’m the great big party pooper. By trying to make sure that I raise her right, I’m afraid that one day I’m going to rule her out of my life.

Just when my fear is threatening to overtake me, at the peak of my despair, my daughter wants me to hold her, to read to her, to play with her. She asks if we can stay home together and not have to go to school or work. Those are the days I know she sees the real me. The lady who can be bribed with a kiss, the lady addicted to warm hugs from small soft arms. And because she watches me pay the bills sometimes, she knows that I am also the lady who works sometimes not just because she wants to, but also because she has to. Those days she cuts me some slack.

I should learn from my daughter, cut myself some slack and trust that my baby will always love me.

Joy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Good Sense of Balance

2006-05-05T08:29:00.000-04:00

Last Thursday I had one of those days at work that made me re-evaluate my career. Is this the place where I'll be working in five years? One year? One month?

As I questioned the ins and outs of my position, the thought of NOT working sent me into a blind panic. What would I do if I lost my job? Would I keep my son in daycare? Should I take him out? Would I stay home alone all day while I looked for another job? Would I find another job? Could I still write for "Work It" if I wasn't workin' it? I finally reached the realization that my job helps to provide one of the most important things in my life -- balance.

Going to work everyday assures that I get dressed every morning and that my son gets out of the house. (Things I couldn't always guarantee when I was staying at home with him.) Working requires me to know the day of the week, the month of the year and the basic weather conditions. I get to experience things like traffic jams, detours and duck crossings on my daily journey to the office.

Working outside of my home provides me with much needed adult conversation, not to mention the companionship my son gets at daycare. Thanks to my job he has structure to his day, friends and the faint knowledge that he is not ALWAYS the center of the (my) universe. Most importantly my job makes me feel fulfilled professionally (most of the time) and there are few greater gifts that I could give to my family than letting them seem me happy.

Things have calmed down at work (I think) and I am so grateful for ALL of the ways my job makes me a better mom.

Coletta is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Turning Three

2006-05-01T08:17:00.000-04:00

My daughter turned three recently and we hosted our first party at our new house. We decided we would limit the party to just family this year. Maybe next year I can tackle having friends too. We had about 18 people over and I think everyone had a great time. Everyone got along at least, which makes a successful party in my book.

I went with a Dora the Explorer theme, but there were only three kids there, so that didn't matter much. The kids loved that they got really cool party toys and had a blast running around all afternoon. The adults loved the food! I decided to switch things up a bit and did a taco bar, including fixings for tacos, nachos and burritos.

My favorite part, aside from getting together with the family, was her cake. I have been experimenting with different styles of cake and I think I finally found my niche. I decided to try a fondant covering this year. WOW, I was shocked at how well it came out and how easy it was to work with. I had read a little about it ahead of time, but was nervous about pulling it off—I ended up buying extra everything in case I needed to revert to a standard frosted cake. I found it very easy to work with and it was actually quicker than regular frosting. Also, I could buy ready-made fondant which really cut down on the time it took to create.

I made a double layer cake and then put white fondant over the entire cake and accented with a Dora candle and orange, red and purple stars. It was a big hit and the kids especially loved it. I was quite proud of my work I must admit! I will confess it did not look quite a perfect as you’d see from a caterer but I did get asked where I bought it a few times. I guess that’s a good sign.

So, my ‘baby’ is not really a baby anymore, she has turned into quite the little girl and fiercely independent. How did the past three years go by so quickly?

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Springing Forward

2006-04-29T14:33:00.000-04:00

Well it was bound to happen sooner or later. Spring has sprung in upstate New York. After about five months of being trapped indoors, we are all ready to be outside.

Last year at this time, Evan was not yet crawling. Now he’s running. Last year: babbling; this year: whole conversations (sort of).

I have a great passion for my work, but these days all I want is for the day to end so that I can scoop up my boy and go to the park (or, as Evan would say: ‘guk’). We put on our socks (‘gock’) and shoes (‘oosch’) and walk out to a good spot. We spread out a blanket (‘key’) so we can eat (‘ee’). Once dinner is done (‘gah-gah’) and there’s no more milk (‘guk’) we walk around to see the lake (‘guk’) and all the water (‘loller’) and the ducks (‘guk’) and pick up rocks (‘gock’) and point out the truck (‘guk’), but his only after he first mistook the ‘guk’ for a bus (‘busssch’).

We look at a plaque in the park and Evan points out some letters and numbers. Some of his favorites are I, R, S, and 2. Hmm. Is Evan going to grow up to be an accountant?

Then altogether too soon we hit that point of sleepy toddlerhood when the eye-rubbing begins and the tantrums gain strength. Evan’s mantra becomes ‘night-night.’ After a brief scuffle over changing clothes we proceed to say good night to everything in the house and lay down. Five minutes later, snoring pours out of Evan’s room, and we adults carry on with all the other things that we need to prepare for the next day.

This is what we must accept as working parents: we only see our children in the evening when they’re about to go to bed and are therefore cranky, or we see them on the weekends when we’ve got 200 other things to do. You steal the quality moments while you can.

I’m told that toddlerhood ends quickly. So for now, I just keep track of how many objects are called ‘guk.’ I have to resist the urge to call the cat ‘Lolly’ instead of Charlie. And I have to continue to marvel every time I say a word (Houdini) and there’s a tiny echo at knee height (‘deenee’).

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

From Diaper Bags to iTunes

2006-04-24T08:00:00.000-04:00

Everyday outside my office building, I see working women carrying their toddlers and babies inside to daycare. They struggle carrying diaper bags that look like weekend luggage to me. They are transporting all of the things that are important for their child’s care. They likely woke up at 4:30 am to get to a job in the city by 8:00 am. I know this, because I did it. First, with my 19-year old daughter and then with my son, Eric, who is now 11.

I don’t have babies anymore, but I still have the same childcare concerns of most mothers. Until my son leaves for college, his day-to-day operations are my number one job responsibility. I no longer need a traditional diaper bag, and I certainly can’t entertain Eric with plastic keys anymore. Now, my “diaper bag” contains an iPod and a Game Boy! Obviously, things change as Eric grows older, but some issues remain the same. Is he safe, happy, well-fed after school? I don’t have to pack a diaper bag with bottles or diapers, but did I stock the pantry with healthy snacks? Did I remind him to do his homework?

Instead of being entertained by Miss Jane or Miss Julie, Eric is now entertained by Instant Messenger Buddy List (pre-approved by Mom, of course) and iTunes. Eleven-years- old is no longer a baby, but not yet a teenager. I constantly struggle with what’s appropriate for a pre-teen. And, believe me, Eric never misses an opportunity to remind me that he is, indeed, a pre-teen!

As I sit at work, my yesterday thoughts of I-Wonder-What-He’s-Doing-Right-Now have been replaced with I-Hope-He-Got-On-The-Right-Bus. Building puzzles and singing songs have been replaced with student council meetings and baseball practice. When Eric was one, I thought, oh, this will be easier next year. Then when he was two, I thought, this will be easier next year. Everyday when I see the mother’s dropping off their babies, I’m reminded that my childcare concerns have not really changed that much over the years. Are they safe, happy, fed? Perhaps I’ll give my daughter a call.

Nancy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Disney Haikus and Vacation News

2006-04-21T08:36:00.000-04:00

Last week I took our son on our first trip to Disney World. The trip was fraught with the highs and lows of traveling with a small child (including my son's cough and cold.) My husband and I learned very quickly how to steal quiet moments alone and to revel in those snapshots of time, however brief, when we were truly having a perfect family vacation. Here are my post-trip reflections!

Pre-board, Ariel trip, begin!
Peanuts, Coloring, movies, nap...
We're only half-way there.

See the water, Ohana!
Feet in the pool before check-in.
Prefer to any bath.

Load, unload, move, walk.
Fade to dark as the Child chants,
Silent boy, Small World.

Marching, Dancing by,
Mouse, Princess in snow white dress
Did they wave to me?

Deck with view of Trash.
Cocktails, postcards & Cinders.
Laugh, in Stitches, Relax.

Plan, Play, Imagine, Dreams, Spend.
Found Happiest Place on Earth!

Home with Healthy baby.

Coletta Taylor is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Easter 2006

2006-04-19T08:00:00.000-04:00

This month I'm sharing a picture of my daughter, Eleanor, on Easter Sunday.

Julie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Finding Peace of Mind

2006-04-17T08:00:00.000-04:00

I set the pace and the mood these days, and I am living in a sea of satisfaction and control. I am keenly aware that I mold every moment, and I am determined to make each one a success. So often I struggle to find balance, so I must relish this time when my brain is able to absorb all the "to dos" and sort them into the "must" pile and the "later - so I can enjoy the best of today" pile.

Seems like these periods of complete sanity come in waves. Next week, I could be swimming with the sharks again. I will desperately try to recapture the repose of this week and only end up marveling at its fleeting reality. Why can't I hold onto this peace for the long haul? I only wish it were as simple as taking my vitamin every day. A healthy state of mind is a priceless thing and somehow mine sets the bar for my loved ones. (Or could it be they are constantly tip-toeing around me and my moods? I will not let this healthy state of mind be dragged down by such thoughts. I am the mother - isn't it right that this home revolves around me? After all - I am the glue!) My family and my home have fallen right into this beautiful balance.

Today I have been thinking if there is anything in particular to which I can attribute my new-found peace of mind. I can't help recalling a conversation with my daughter a couple of weeks ago. Within a span of 10 minutes, she must have asked me three times, "Mommy, are you okay? Are you happy?"

Finally, I asked why she was inquiring. "'Cause I don't see your smile, mom," she replied. Good point, I thought. My five-year-old reminded me how important it is to show our happiness - so our loved ones KNOW how happy we are AND to be more acutely aware of it ourselves. I want to feel the joy in my life. There is so much joy to be had here.

Maybe this contentment and balance I feel can be attributed to this pregnancy. Maybe the glow of pregnancy has crept into the corridors of my brain and spread optimism, acceptance and peace. Maybe I am carrying a child with just these qualities. Whatever the cause, I pray its presence is a prolonged one. I like this house guest.

"Let us, then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor, and to wait."
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Psalm of Life

Megan is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

A role model for working motherhood - my mom

2006-04-14T08:09:00.000-04:00

Coincidentally, as I was preparing to write my first post for the Work It blog, I learned that a tribute to my own working mother was airing last night on our local CBS news station.

My mother, a longtime high school teacher in the New York City school system, was a stay-at-home mom until she gave birth to me, her fourth child, in 1962. She jokingly tells me I was the one who pushed her out of the house and into grad school, where she earned her masters in education and began an amazing teaching career.

For three decades, she taught drama and English, directed the school plays and musicals, served as senior class supervisor, and had an enormous impact on hundreds of students, including a special group from the early 1970s. As one of these former students noted in the tribute dinner to her last Saturday night, in an era where teachers seemed not have first names or lives outside of the classroom, she opened our home to cast parties, brought her five children into the auditorium to watch the students rehearse, and let these teenagers pay her the ultimate compliment, calling her “Mama Miller” and even one year, naming her “Queen of the Prom.”

In her tribute to my mom, one of my sisters noted that she was initially angry with my mother for spending so much time at the school and away from her. “She was my mother – not theirs,” Stephanie remembered thinking.

But as she grew older, she realized that my mother had an overabundance of talent and passion, and needed the outlet of working outside the home doing something she loved to fulfill herself and her destiny.

I didn’t have the same experience as Stephanie. I grew up in the prime of the women’s liberation movement and even during my terrible teens, I was proud that my mother worked. I also grew up filled with ambition and determination to fulfill myself as a woman and as a human being. I got that from my mother.

I hope that when my girls get older, they'll be as proud of me for working away from home doing something I love, as I am of my mother.

Tracey is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Here comes Peter Cottontail…

2006-04-07T10:55:00.000-04:00

We have decided to host Easter at our house this year. If everyone shows up there will be 12 adults and three children. Many people would cringe at the thought. I cannot wait! I have been longing to hold holiday celebrations at my house for years and now I finally have a place big enough. Working from home, I am also able to take extra time to decorate the house and make those more time-consuming dishes for Easter dinner. I love that I can walk in each room of my house and see something ‘Easter’. Easter has always made me think of spring and that always puts me in a very chipper mood.

In addition to dinner, we will hold the ever important egg hunt (adults included), with slight modifications. For instance, my lawn (or lack thereof) will just not work to hide eggs in, also my sister in law is eight-months pregnant with baby number two and can’t run about like usual. That being said, we’ve decided to hold the hunt indoors.

Imagine watching 10 adults (minus hubby and I) run about looking for eggs! I am still working out all the details for prizes, but it should be a good time. I am nervous that I will not be able to live up to the standards we’ve all gotten used to thanks to my in laws — they put so much time and effort into the egg hunts they have always hosted. I want this to be special for them too as this is the first egg hunt they get to participate in.

This is also the first year that my daughter really understands what’s happening, last year she understood one thing — candy! It is so fun to watch her face light up over all the decorations. The first night she saw them she came home and said, "Mommy, MOMMY!!! The Easter bunny came to my house!!! Look, he left Easter eggs everywhere! Can we go look for my basket?"

I was surprised she put that all together and felt kind of bad I had to tell her that no, the bunny had no come yet, I just decorated the house.

Can’t wait to see her reaction on Easter morning!

What part of the holiday are you looking forward to?

JenMarie is a Work It contributing writer. Read more about her.

Screaming Squalls

2006-03-24T09:45:00.000-05:00

I’m convinced that I have a perfectly normal toddler who is getting a head start on his “terrible twos.” Evan is 19-months-old, and he’s decided that eating and sleeping are passé. The dinner table and the crib have become war zones.

Every day I pick him up from daycare and they say, “He won’t eat.”

When we get home, he asks for food, but starts tossing it after a few bites. Then the tantrum starts because we won’t give him the nice salty cracker that he really wants. This is the end of dinner and we’re off to go do other things. Of course, the tantrum doesn’t stop and in exasperation we put him to bed screeching and carrying on – all the while explaining that we know he wants the cracker but he can’t have it and that THIS behavior is unacceptable. We get him to bed and clean up the mess, knowing that tomorrow will be the same thing again.

It’s been normal for Evan to wake up briefly each night about two hours after he goes to sleep, to cry a few sobs, and go back to sleep. This is just his sleep cycle. Lately, though, he wakes up and the sobs escalate into screeching and yelling and keep going for at least an hour. We dutifully go into his room to make sure there isn’t some physical reason for his tears, and then we leave him alone. The crying continues. A few nights ago it was four hours worth. We check him every so often to ensure that there’s not some obvious problem, then let it go.

By my estimation, the best thing we can do is just wait it out. This is a phase, my mommy senses are telling me. He’s just pushing buttons to see what he can get and what he won’t get. We need to stand our ground. There’s nothing wrong with him. He just wants to play, but night time and dinner time are not play time. He’s just got to learn.

But it’s frustrating. We need to eat and sleep too! My husband and I get mad at each other during the 2 a.m. bouts, and my mother-in-law seems convinced that there is some other problem that my husband and I and the pediatrician are overlooking.

But there’s nothing wrong with my son!!

…is there?

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Counting on me

2006-03-10T07:45:00.000-05:00

As my son is learning to count at his daycare, I am realizing how important counting has become in my life as a parent.

Counting used to be reserved for emergencies only, resolutions of bounced checks and change at drive-thru windows, but now it is a resurrected art form.

I can't count the amount of countless things I currently count.

The number of ounces of formula vs. milk in a bottle, the number of clear words he can say, the number of teeth he has, the amount of weight he's gained since his last doctors appointment. I count the moments between my son's cries at bedtime -- I start at 99 and count backwards, and then start over at the next squall.

I count the hours until my husband returns home from his business trips, the days its been since I've gotten 8 hours of sleep, the months since my son has been very sick...the number of years until I'm at risk to produce children.

Some additional numbers:

- The number of remedies I tried on my son's rash before finding out it was dry skin and it just needed lotion -- 6
- The number of times this month my husband and I have mentioned that we're not ready for another child yet - 5
- The number of Sudoku games I played before I lost the book somewhere in the house -- 4
- The number of times I've read Mr. Brown can Moo today -- 3
- The number of movies I've seen in the theatre this year - 2 (number of Baby Einstein viewings at home -- 200+)
- The number of sour cream containers broken by my son in a grocery store -- 1

I am SO proud of my son, he is very good at saying "Two, Two, Fwee, Fo," and I am relishing each and every moment watching him grow and learn.

Coletta is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Sweating the Small Stuff

2006-02-27T18:10:00.000-05:00

I have an anxiety disorder. I got the formal diagnosis a few years ago, but know in retrospect that anxiety has dominated my entire life. It’s almost bizarre now, after treatment, to find myself doing fine in situations that used to send me off the deep end.

If it weren’t for treatment, I would never have become a mother. I wouldn’t have my career. I would have lost my marriage before it even got started.

It’s almost laughable, really. People who know me, even casually, find it hard to believe that I have a variety of anxiety called “Social Anxiety” or “Social Phobia.” They find it hard to believe that I was the person who could pass out when giving a presentation in class, or that I was literally incapable of making phone calls when things were at their worst. No one believes that, to this day, I feel myself die inside when I ask for directions. Of course, none of those same people are surprised when they find out that I also have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

Some days, treatment or not, I find myself frozen with anxiety. It may be because I have to contact someone in the physical plant for a light bulb replacement, or it’s because I sense that something is not right with my son and I’m worried. Sometimes it’s just an innocent discussion with my husband or mother-in-law that leaves me paralyzed and despondent for a few days.

It’s a struggle. It’s my struggle.

I know that anxiety is part inherited, but there is a huge part of anxiety that is learned. Part of my treatment was to ‘unlearn’ those old behavior patterns, and teach myself new ways to react to stressful situations. That was one year I would not want to relive.

Knowing that anxious behaviors are learned means that I have to be careful how I react to stress when my son is around to observe, because I have no doubt that he will have to deal with anxiety in his life. Sometimes that’s all I need to know to be able to launch myself into an uncomfortable situation.

So, thank you, son, for being my reason to find strength when I need it most. Thank you for pushing me to be more than merely OK with the status quo. Thank you.

Now go to sleep.

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Poetic Accuracy

2006-02-24T13:46:00.000-05:00

Once in a while, I discover a piece of literature that reflects my current feelings toward life with amazing accuracy. I recently came across a poem in an issue of The New Yorker that mirrors my sense of identity as a mother, combined with the other roles I still assume (wife, daughter, co-worker, writer, etc). Since my journey of motherhood began, I haven’t been able to look back on even a previous year with clarity— each moment always blended crazily into the next. Then, I read this:

Arriving Again and Again Without Noticing

I remember all the different kinds of years.
Angry, or brokenhearted, or afraid.
I remember feeling like that
walking up the mountain along the dirt path
to my broken house on the island.
And long years of waiting in Massachusetts.
The winter walking and hot summer walking.
I finally fell in love with all of it:
dirt, night, rock and far views.
It's strange that my heart is as full
now as my desire was then.

- Linda Gregg (from The New Yorker, January 16, 2006)

This poem assisted me in putting the past few years in perspective and brought me to the conclusion that, yes, I really DO love my life, in all its craziness. There was a year where I was frustrated and afraid. Juggling all that was going on in my life became a struggle and my mind felt like the “broken house on the island” in Gregg’s poem. The desire to rid myself of the stress I experienced during that time was intense, and though I survived, I’m glad it’s over.

By no means have I settled down, as it were (because of the careers my husband and I chose, we are still in transit), but I have settled into my life. Within the past few months I finally acquired the patience to deal with whatever comes my way, and found a balance between work and home that suits me and improves my demeanor. The past three years since my daughter’s birth have been wonderful and tough—but I have fallen “in love with all of it,” as the speaker in the poem says. I have arrived.

Julie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

The Second Time Around

2006-02-20T08:01:00.000-05:00

In the wee hours of this Saturday morning, I am suddenly inspired to write! I have been waiting for this. At last, I find myself sitting in front of the computer, madly typing a stream of free-flowing thoughts (about something other than groceries, bills or work.) Okay........maybe it's more a case of insomnia than inspiration. (It is 4am!)

Insomnia seems to be one of the side effects of my second pregnancy. (I am quickly learning how true it is that every pregnancy is different. I knew that first one was too good to be true.) And, as I embark upon the next level of parenthood, I am filled with inspiration (truly this time!), joy, fear and doubt - mostly doubt......about myself as a parent. Trust me when I say - I am thrilled about having a second child. It's something I have wanted for some time, but - GOSH - why are we always struck by our fears just when we get what we want? Just more proof that we are our own worst enemy, I guess.

Suddenly I find myself dissecting the personality and behavior of my five-year-old. And, I have to say, I feel kinda cruel doing it; but that certainly won't stop me. At the root, this is clearly research, right? An objective look at my own parenting skills?

I keep asking myself those fundamental questions. Is my daughter the child I said I would raise? Is she well behaved? Is she respectful and responsible? Is she confident? (Isn't her confidence inherently linked to mine?) Is she kind? Is she smart? Is she independent or adventurous? Is she spiritual? Is she helpful and polite? Does she trust in and feel secure with her mom and dad?

Ultimately, the answers to ALL of these questions is a direct reflection on me - on us as parents, right? And yet, I don't have a clue what those answers are. I mean - she IS only five years old; and, with your first child, you're not sure what is "typical" behavior. It will be at least a couple more years before it's evident if the lessons I am trying to teach are effective, right?

I have certainly determined those things I think are most important to instill in her - respect, responsibility, confidence and kindness. Geez, those are the biggest and most difficult of them all. Why did I pick those? Why can't I be happy with a confident and independent child? With those characteristics, I wouldn't have to worry so much about her. Maybe I should just strive for those and be happy if anything else blossoms alongside. I just don't know what to do and that scares me a little - especially with the second one on the way.

I think I know the things I have done well so that's a start. My daughter is certainly a kind child. I think she is well on her way to being a polite and well-behaved woman (although there is the flicker of rebellion in those eyes that scares me). I feel sure that being honest with her - no matter how tough - is the right road. I think she will grow up understanding and accepting the world far better than her mother and always trust her parents to be straight with her. That is very important to me. The rest - who the hell knows? I wonder - how much of our efforts as parents are lost to genetics and the state of the world in which we live?

I can't really begin to say what I am going to do differently with my second child. Mostly, I have hope. I hope that we are making the right choices, that the good times will continue and better will come. I hope that the mad dash from home - to school - to work - to home - to the dinner tabe - to the bath - to bedtime - to "down time" is a fruitful life, part of the journey to a better me and a better us.

Megan is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

I'm back

2006-02-17T11:49:00.000-05:00

Yes, I am...officially a working mom again. A new career, a new attitude, new kids. No, same kids. But, they're older now and are a bit easier to handle during the morning rush. Except, it's not a rush anymore. They're in daycare three days; My oldest has to be there by 9:00 for circle time. Technically, I don't have to go in to the office unless scheduled for floor time. Our mornings are leisurely in comparison my "old" life when I had to be in the office by 7:30. Just that difference alone makes me feel good about my career change decision.

The break did wonders for my attitude. I was in the bitter barn about my job and so-called career. I feel energized and ready to attack the market. Completing the required classes and passing my state test jacked up my self-esteem. When I took on the challenge there was a little part of me that didn't think I could learn brand new things and test well when the pressure was on. I've since hushed that voice.

Here I am, catching up with everyone, catching up everyone with me and ready to share this working mom experience again.

Laura is a 'Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Into the Wind

2006-02-13T10:36:00.000-05:00

At first I was confused as to what he was doing. The wind was blowing hard and cold as I struggled to get Morgan into his car seat. I looked at him again and he was smiling--no, laughing -- with his mouth open trying to taste the wind. As I innately turned my face away from the blistering cold, my baby turned his face into the wind, happy and excited.

The recent cold weather we've received has caused me to realize how much childlike abandon I've lost as an adult. I suppose we "grown-ups" can't help it. We've learned to hate bad weather with good reason; standing in grocery lines for milk and batteries, driving five miles-per-hour so we arrive safely, covering up ears, hands and feet to avoid coughs, colds and flu.

Honestly, I thought I was really in touch with my inner child. I like to play in the snow, get on the floor and play dinosaur and spin around until I get dizzy -- but I also bring my adult wisdom (such as it is) to all of those situations. I don't throw ice snow balls, I don't chew the furniture when I'm a T-Rex and, truthfully, I stop twirling before I actually fall down.

It's exciting to watch my son explore the world around him and find joy and wonder not only in toys and games but the smoke coming from my burnt pot roast, and the rocks that stick to his hand as he falls in the driveway. My son holds no aversion to the mud puddles that I expertly avoid. Instead he heads right for them, sticking his hand right in (35 degree weather) and tasting the water! Yikes. He's reminding me to take pleasure in not only the small things -- but also the yucky ones.

Coletta R. Taylor is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Fun Family Recipe

2006-02-10T11:43:00.000-05:00

Thought I would shake things up a bit this post and offer up one of my family’s favorite recipe’s. This recipe came from my mother-in-law, it was a favorite during hubby’s childhood.
I let my daughter help with most of this, she loves to break the bread into small pieces!

Nut Roll

Prep Time: 5 minutes
Rise Time: 6 hours to overnight
Cook Time: 30-35 minutes

Ingredients:

1 loaf frozen white bread dough, thawed
1 stick butter or margarine
1/2 cup crushed walnuts (optional)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 package COOK & SERVE Butterscotch pudding, must be COOK & SERVE.

Preheat Oven to 350 degrees.

Grease Bundt pan with non-stick spray. Place walnuts in bottom of pan. Break apart bread dough into small pieces and put in bottom of pan, covering walnuts. Melt butter/margarine and pour over top of bread in pan, be sure to cover dough as thoroughly as possible. Sprinkle pudding mix over top of bread. Sprinkle brown sugar over top of pudding. Cover with plastic wrap (sprayed with non-stick spray) or wax paper. Allow to rise overnight (or until bread has risen to top of pan). Bake at 350 for 30-35 minutes. Immediately remove from oven and turn over on plate. Enjoy!

Jen Marie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Learn more about her.

The Upside of Working-Momdom

2006-02-06T10:23:00.000-05:00

Guilt is too often the calling card of working moms. Society sends working moms - all moms - mixed signals. Stay-at-home moms are often treated as "less thans" and their work is often not valued as "real work." Working moms are chided for "wanting it all" and prioritizing work over their family. Ironically, if you asked a working mom why she's working, she'd probably mention her family first.

I enjoy working. Just putting that out there makes me feel like someone will judge me for it. But I admit it - I enjoy working. I love my job and the opportunities it provides to learn new things, challenge myself and be on a great team. That said, I have plenty of working-mom guilt. I spend my days walking a tight-rope to balance family and career.

Lately, I've been thinking about the positive ways my working has influenced my daughter's life. (It's easy to focus on the financial positives, but I wanted to think outside of those, to the less obvious positives.) The older she gets, the more positives I am seeing. So I've listed a few here to remind myself on the days when the balancing act is a little more difficult:

1. Olivia has loving relationships with some very special adults outside of her family. She knows she can trust other adults to care for her and love her when her parents are not with her. She adores her daycare providers and teachers.

2. Olivia's time with in-home providers and at preschool provides unique and fun opportunities. A firefighter recently came to her class to talk when they did a unit on community helpers. Last week, Olivia was in heaven when the preschool hosted "pony day." Her in-home provider takes her to story time at the library, the neighborhood park, etc. I'm lucky because I know she's doing the very things I'd do if I was home with her.

3. Other providers have been instrumental in teaching Olivia so many things that we, particularly as first-time-parents, wouldn't have even known how to teach her. (In many cases, we don't realize she's capable of learning things yet that her other providers DO know she's full capable of!)

We were recently pleasantly surprised when she sat down at our computer and began using the mouse - correctly! We tried a few times to teach her how to use a computer mouse, but it never stuck. She has computer time every Friday at preschool and they were the ones who have taught her so much of what she knows about the computer.

4. As parents, we have also learned so much from Olivia's providers and teachers. Whenever I have a question, they're the first ones I go to. They've had years of experience and also know her personality and what may work for her. That insight is better than any parenting book.

5. From what I've seen (and read), toddlers and preschoolers really appreciate and need order and a routine. Olivia seems to thrive on the routine that we follow as a working family. To be fair, I know many stay-at-home moms who excel at creating and sticking to a family routine.

But speaking for myself, I'm afraid if I were at home, we'd have a sad excuse for a routine. Sending Olivia to daycare and eventually to preschool, forced us to create a routine that works for her. It's not a schedule - and it's not set in stone - but it does provide a general guideline for the day. It's comforting to her to generally know what comes next - and we've been following a similar routine since she was about three months old. (It just repeats far fewer times each day now that she's older!)

There are other positives of my being a working mom - big and little - for our family. But these are a good and important start.

How does your being a working mom positively influence your children and your family?

Amy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Priorities and Sacrifices

2006-01-30T18:03:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it is so impossible to decide where to put your priorities. When in doubt, “it’s the squeaky wheel that gets the grease” they say. What if all the wheels in the world squeak at once?

I’ve been bumbling through two weeks of having to choose between crises at work and in my son’s health. To quote another cliché: “When it rains, it pours.” What’s left out of that cliché is that when it pours, there’s often a flood, and many things may be damaged beyond repair.

I came down with a cold which was innocent enough. I was sick enough that I stayed home from work the following day, and happily returned to work the day after that.

The moment I walked into the building where I work, my phone rang. “Daycare here: Evan’s throwing up. Come get ‘em.” Another unexpected day off.

Then the battle starts. Evan’s got to stay home the next day, too, and my husband is reluctant to take a day off of work. Thankfully, he did and I went to work.

The weekend comes. Evan doesn’t improve. He won’t eat.

Monday arrives. I’ve taken Evan’s to the doctor. He’s got ear infections again. Maybe he can go back to daycare on Tuesday. I hope so, because I really need to be at work!

Tuesday morning starts with Evan screaming in pain. I can’t make myself take him to daycare, but I also have appointments at work. I’ve already missed three of the last four work days, but my husband is adamant that he can’t miss work either. I cancel my appointments with hasty apologies and settle in for another day with my son.

Then I get a message from the boss. Because I was already stressed out, what I read was ‘you need to choose between your son and your job.’ (The message was not remotely as bad as this, but a highly emotional state can change your perception of anything.) I got Evan up from his nap, took him to daycare, and went to work, hoping that: 1) Evan didn’t get sent home again; 2) Evan would forgive me; and 3) I haven’t somehow cost myself my job. I spent the whole work day despondent but productive. Evan did fine at daycare. My boss apologized for having scared me, saying that the message was never meant as an ultimatum.

Things are getting back to normal now, but I’m still reeling. Was there anything else I could have done?

Penny is a "Work It" Contributing Writer. Read more about her.

Finding Solutions

2006-01-23T11:23:00.000-05:00

When I was pregnant with my daughter, dozens of books were suggested to me on the issue of pregnancy, childrearing and motherhood. I read one suggested pregnancy book and replaced it with another. I read various articles and books on motherhood. I talked to mothers of different ages, with grown or small children. And I’ve realized that the best advice has been what I gave myself when I became pregnant: to trust my own instincts.

When I was pregnant, I stopped trusting the manuals to tell me what to eat. If I was hungry for something, I ate it: apples, carrots, orange juice, meat, Sour Patch Kids, etc. I followed my instincts through labor, which much to my surprise (to this day) I was able to do naturally, and into caring for my newborn. I fed her when she was hungry, soothed her when she cried, and followed my instinct throughout her infant years.

Those newborn days seem like ages ago. My daughter has changed considerably since then, and I’m using my instincts differently now that she is almost three years old. These days I rely on my innate belief that a person should treat others as she would like to be treated, and that one should take care of what belongs to her. Since I want to practice what I preach, this belief enables me to realize when I should give in a little, when to back off, and when to take the upper hand. And sometimes all she needs is some extra Mommy time.

It isn’t easy. Many times I feel like the bad guy, but that’s mainly because I don’t want to hear her cry over cleaning up a mess she’s made or picking up her toys before bedtime. Of course, I make her do it anyway. I can keep a straight face and my emotions in line. Now, in this time of being consistent with discipline, emotions need to take a backseat, even when I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing or don’t know what to do at all. How do I want her to treat others as well as her belongings? is all I can ask myself. Once I answer that question, I’ve found my solution.

Julie is a "Work It" Contributing Writer. Read more about her.

Lost & Found?

2006-01-16T09:55:00.000-05:00

My son recently received, for his first birthday, the Fisher Price Little People Zoo. The zoo includes a play-mat, 26 animals, a zookeeper and a tractor. My son loves the little plastic animals and carries them around everywhere in groups of two -- one in each fist. I am constantly returning the animals to the shoe box in his room. The other day I found the shoe box empty. Some of the animals were scattered around the box (like the polar bear...he never gets to go anywhere...sometimes he just sits in the box alone).

"Lawd," I thought, "There are 24 plastic animals (and a zookeeper) hidden all over my house." I have listed some of the hiding places below:

1. I found the ostrich in the kitchen cabinets with the pots, pans and of course, my hair brush.

2. The zebra was taking a dip in the cats' water bowl.

3. The alligator was stuffed into my son's Fisher Price Ball Popper, which uses an air stream to shoot out small plastic balls (one word--Screwdriver.)

4. I found the lion lying down with my son's stuffed lamb (a bit of Christian irony lost on my Jewish husband and son.)

5. The hippo was rescued from the Diaper Genie.

6. The dolphin and the yak were hanging out in the Weeble-Wobble Village (which is fine because the Weebles were in the Playskool barn).

7. My son's favorite animal the Uriel was under the couch. (What the hell is a uriel? It looks like a plain old sheep to me).

8. I found the rhino in my room...MY room! Morgan hasn't been allowed in my room to play since he was 5 months old. Unbelievable!

9. The vulture was in the bathroom sink, and to tell the truth -- I put it there myself after rescuing it from the toilet. I had some disinfecting to do.

10. And the X-ray fish is still sitting comfortably in the back seat of my car.

Now that the holidays have passed, and my brother, who gave us the zoo, has come and gone, I should pare down the pile of animals to a reasonable number, like five or ten. I must admit though, that I occasionally like looking for the animals, it's like a scavenger hunt in the midst of my cleaning---my own private "Where's Waldo." I guess I'll have to wait and see how many end up in the toilet!

Coletta R. Taylor is a "Work It" Contributing Writer. Read more about her.

Resolutions and Missions

2006-01-12T16:03:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

I know the beginning of the New Year is traditionally the time to make changes—resolutions—to (or for) your life. I’ve never been one to write yearly resolutions, much less keep them!

This year, I decided I needed a change, but still am not into the whole resolution thing. I decided now was a good time to update my personal mission statement. It’s been a few years since I’ve examined my life and where it’s going so I thought my mission should reflect where I am now.

After spending some time soul searching and of course scouring online for ideas, I came up with the following:

I will find balance between career and family. I will remember to use my unique talents as a working mother to juggle the challenges that arise on the job. I will not forget that being a mother is the single most important job I will ever hold. I will remember that my children will only be children for a short time and all too soon they will be on their own. I will cherish the time I do have with them. I will teach my children to be the best they can be and encourage their interests. I will strive to create a warm and loving home that is inviting to both family and friends. I will commit to my family that they will always be the most important thing in my life.

So, what’s your personal mission statement? Do you even have one?

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Our Family's First Christmas

2005-12-29T15:12:00.000-05:00

Though I know, technically, that this was Evan’s second Christmas, and the fourth Christmas that I have spent with my husband, I still consider this one our first as a total family.

Last year was a bust. We moved into our current home in upstate New York from Florida on the 19th of December last year. There were no gifts, lights, or bows. No stockings. No tree. And, disappointingly, no snow. It was just another day of us sifting through hundreds of boxes, trying to find the floor underneath, whilst caring for a 5-month-old. The only thing that marked December 25th as different from all the other days since we had moved was that no stores were open – a minor inconvenience.

I had one more week of relative freedom until I started my new job (for which we had moved). I hadn’t worked in eight months and was struggling to switch from the full-time-mommy mentality to the research- and scientifically- oriented world of academia.

Christmas came and was gone before I even realized it – and at the time, I didn’t mind.

Then the pictures came. Evan has a cousin, Emily, who is three weeks older than he is. My brother and his wife proudly sent photos of Emily rolling around under the tree and playing awkwardly with new toys. She had her new Christmas outfit on, with a shiny bow stuck to her head.

It struck me then that there would never be a chance for me to have the same with Evan. There was no possibility of getting a photo of my 5-month-old gazing at the Christmas tree. All we had were boxes everywhere. And I mourned the loss.

I have accepted that loss, though it still makes me sad. I decided that this year there would be pictures of Evan and the tree, Evan and bows, Evan and his stocking, and Evan with new toys. This year is the first year my husband and I actually put up and decorated a tree. This year, we hung stockings off the fireplace mantel. This year, we smiled every time Evan pointed at the colored lights spread all around the house and said “light?” This year, I didn’t struggle to unpack boxes, clean the house, or remember the chemical composition of tooth enamel. This year we were a family.

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

All I Want for Christmas

2005-12-22T10:09:00.000-05:00

Wow! Can it be that the holiday season has bombarded and overwhelmed me yet again this year? That suddenly it is nearing its crux, to end in the thrashing and ripping of gifts galore, the chaotic reunion with family and friends, and the heavenly indulgences that seem to foster regret later. Why does it all pass us so quickly every year? Just a few short weeks of glorious, ostentatious decorations and jolly holiday music blaring from every nook and cranny!

It's a beautiful thing, this season of feasting and fretting. Yes, fretting! It seems to be part of the glory of the season, doesn't it? We've certainly known our share this year. Christmas 2005 has been a drama marked by a myriad of unexpected difficulties. It started with a flooded basement, then a funeral, the "surprise" arrival of family for a week, a sick child - a selection of everyday trials that culminated at the busiest time of the year.

The flooded basement was three nights of late labor to extract and clean. The funeral was a harried, two-day trip to Rhode Island. The unannounced arrival of my mother and sisters wouldn't have been so bad.....well......if it hadn't included my mother. You know what I mean - we all love our mothers dearly (and are slowly turning into them as witnessed by our husbands), but she is the one person in the world who can sway our emotions from left to right with only a small selection of choice words.

This is particularly difficult when you have the kind of mother I have. When she has nothing nice to say, she tries her hardest to find something; and more often than not, says something awkward and ambiguous - something so obviously a cover for her true feelings. ("Oh, look at your tree........it's so......straight." See what I mean.) My family's arrival coincided with my daughter's 102-degree fever - all this in the midst of my holiday decorating. So the boxes of uncovered holiday decor sitting in the middle of my living room stayed there for the duration of their visit.

I'm sure my mother had something to say about that during the 8-hour ride home with my sisters; and no doubt, my sisters will give me a detailed report. Mother, you can call me what you want! Just do me the courtesy of CALLING me to tell me you're coming!

And when I closed the door on my last guest and surveyed what was left on my Christmas "to do" list, the panic and tears started to set in. How could I get it all done? When would I find the time? Would I be a shadow of myself on Christmas as a result of shopping 'til midnight after working all day? When do I get to enjoy the season? When do I get to relax with a glass (or three) of wine by the light of the tree?

And after a moment or two on the edge of a breakdown (C'mon - you've been there and usually over something minor!), a little voice whispered, "WHY can't you?"

My ever-faithful "inner goddess" comes to my rescue. At the lowest of moments, she reminds me that I create my own life and my own choices. This time, she quietly reminds me that only I can make my Christmas what I want it to be. She reminds me that weeks of stress and mounting anxiety can be cured with only a few of the most perfect moments.

And so (with a little planning), a few stolen moments in the wee morning hours by the light of the tree - just my coffee and me - gave me time to relish all the beauty of my Christmas, my tree, my life, my soul. I can't help but think my trials were ultimately meant to do just that. (Oh most divine of messengers, I got your greeting this year.) Now, I am restored and renewed, and that's all I want for Christmas.

Megan is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Waiting for Santa

2005-12-14T11:02:00.000-05:00

December 8, 2005

Eleanor, my two-year-old daughter, desperately wants a new baby doll for Christmas. It must pee and cry and be able to take baths with her. She knows she’s getting it, she knows Santa will bring it, but she is so thrilled by the idea of this doll that she can’t wait.

On Tuesday night, I read The Polar Express to her for the first time. When the little boy sat on Santa’s lap, she automatically said, “I want to sit on Santa’s lap.” I told her we’d take her to see him next week. The next evening after I picked her up from daycare, she told me she wanted to see Santa. I told her I had chores to do around the house, but we’d take her next week. She kept going on and on about it—she simply HAD to see the man, so I told her we could ask Daddy when we got home. And I realized laundry could probably wait until afterward.

Before we left, she said, “I getting a new baby!” It was then I realized that she had equated seeing Santa with getting her new toy, just like in The Polar Express, when the little boy is given what he asks for right after he tells Santa what it is. I hated to disappoint her, but I told her she had to wait until Christmas for her present. She was a little sad, but the excitement of seeing Santa took that away.

So after supper, we went to the mall. She was so excited she nearly ran down the entrance hall while holding my hand. She was patient while waiting in line, and went to Santa after a little coaxing. She told him what she wanted before he even asked, and then the photographer took her picture with Santa.

This morning, on the drive to daycare, she told me in a sad voice, “I want a baby REAL bad.”

I know you do, honey. The waiting is the hardest part.

Julie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Of China Cabinets and Babies

2005-12-09T08:22:00.000-05:00

If I had to give an analogy for the past year of my life I would liken it to watching someone take all of the dishes, glasses and vases out of my china cabinet and scatter them randomly throughout my house -- and then tell me to put it all back together.

This time last year my husband and I had just moved from Ohio back to the east coast in Maryland to an unfamiliar town. My husband started a brand new job with a lot of travel, and I gave birth to our beautiful son, Morgan. My whole life changed. I've been trying so hard to put all of the "pieces" back the way they were -- but I know that things will never be exactly the same again.

Some things in my life have been easier since the move/baby; I live closer now to most of my friends and my family, and that has been such a relief. But most pieces of my life were much harder to put back after the baby. I became a stay-at-home mother by default (no job in Maryland to return to after a maternity leave). My husband was gone several days a week for the first six months of Morgan's life. It took some time for my husband and me to recover from being apart so much during this crucial time, and for this piece of my life to feel secure again.

The week that I got the offer for my current job was one of the more stressful weeks of my life. My son was sick, it was the Jewish New Year, my sister-in-law had just had a baby, my husband's birthday had come and gone without any celebration and in-laws invited themselves to stay in my home. Through all this I can still remember the surge of relief upon hearing my boss give me the job offer over the phone. I felt as though the last piece of my china had been found...it was under the couch and dusty and would take me a week to polish it but my life was complete again. I was happy.

I know that the 'china cabinet of my life' looks a lot different today than it did a year ago, but I seem to finally have things where I want them -- for now.

Coletta Taylor is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Back to the Grindstone

2005-12-01T09:32:00.000-05:00

I started back to work this past Monday. Much to my surprise, it was not nearly as difficult this time around. I have been wondering why the difference, I think a number of things contributed to the change in how I felt.

Last time, I felt incredibly betrayed by my employer. It was agreed before I went on maternity leave that I would only be returning part time. More specifically, I was to work three days in the office and a fourth day from home for a total of 32 hours a week. Two weeks before I was to return, I got a call from my boss telling me that our team was being re-assigned to a new manager. This new manager refused to honor the agreement the other boss and I had; I was given the choice of returning full time (in the office all the time) or not at all. It was a big mess and caused a lot of resentment on my part.

Another issue I dealt with last time, in addition to the wild hormonal swings, was the knowledge that if we really wanted to, I could have stayed home. I resented my husband for quite a while for that one. I felt he was not respecting how I was feeling and what I wanted. We talked through it and slowly, I came back to my senses and realized I would need to continue to work if we wanted to be able to give our children the extras in life and maintain a sense of sanity for myself.

Now I have an employer that respects the boundaries between work and family. I work out of the house completely, so just not having to go into an office makes a huge difference. My day is flexible, so I can manage family events around my work schedule. Best of all my employer has made it clear that family comes first and work can fit in around it.

In addition, we are just days away from moving into our dream house. This would not have been possible had I stopped working after Sydney was born. It may seem petty, but because I continue to work, we are able to move to an area where our children will have many, many more opportunities.

I have come to love being a working mother. I love that I can use my skills as a mom to better juggle the demands of my job. I love that I can contribute to something outside of the home. I especially love that I can be a good example to my daughter, showing her that yes you CAN be a working mother—and be successful at it!

How did YOU handle returning to the workforce after baby AND (if you have multiple children) did you find it easier to go back the second (or 3^rd, etc) time around?

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

First steps are the hardest

2005-11-21T09:42:00.000-05:00

Finally! We have a toddler who actually toddles. He took four steps yesterday at daycare – finally, at nearly 16 months old. It’s a relief. I was getting worried that he’d be crawling to classes in High School. *whew*

The problem? None with Evan; all with me.

See, it is possible to read and know too much. The moment I found out I was pregnant, out came the embryology texts and notes from years back when I took the class as an undergraduate. And I studied. I studied childbirth. I studied infant development. I have a child development library next to my bed. I subscribe to all the e-mail newsletters.

What do they all tell me?

“Every child is different, but Evan should be doing THIS by now.” And of course, Evan was not doing THIS yet. The 15-month milestone: almost all children are walking by now. All the younger children in daycare are walking circles around Evan. No sign of walking from our 15-month-old boy.

So, naturally, I worry and I read more. In my professional experience, the answer is always somewhere in print, if you just choose the right key words. But I kept getting the same answer over and over.

What had I done wrong? Maybe having Evan in daycare all day, five days a week is stunting his development. Maybe I’m not nurturing enough. Maybe I’m not feeding him the right foods. Maybe I was kidding myself when I thought I could juggle a career and a family.

Thankfully, we do have to go to regular well checks at the pediatrician. She, and a new resident doctor, both assured me that nothing was wrong. He’ll walk when he wants. He’ll switch to table food when he’s ready. He’s FINE.

Don’t believe everything you read. Put those books away. Does your son smile and hurry to you when he sees you? Is he making progress and learning new things? Doesn’t your heart want to explode with joy every time he giggles and starts chasing the cats saying “Hi kitty! Tickle, tickle”? He’s FINE!

And as soon as I quit worrying, guess who decided to try walking? Yup. That’s my toddler. I’m so proud!

Penny is a "Work It" Contributing Writer. Read more about her.

Free To Be Me

2005-11-14T11:26:00.000-05:00

Since I became a mother, I’ve been wondering where I fit into the world of mothers.

I know the kind of mother I am not.

1) I’m not skilled in the visual arts. I don’t sew or embroider or make seasonal decorations.
2) I don’t cook meals. Frankly, I’m not very good at it.

But what am I? Who am I? Where do I fit in among other mothers?

I give my daughter crayons and markers and notebooks and coloring books because she loves to draw and write. I find some of her preemie outfits for her baby dolls to wear. I let her help me bake cookies and clean up afterward. I let her choose some of her own clothes when we go shopping. We play “Green light Red light” outside and she runs through my red lights. We pet the dog and cat and talk to them sweetly. We talk about scary things and fun things and I tell her about funny dreams I have at night. We read books together. We watch Mork and Mindy and Laverne and Shirley and I Love Lucy, and the next time she wants to watch any of these she will ask for them by name. We dance to music and she learns my favorite songs by heart as well as some of her favorites.

In short, I’m just me. I have my own set of things I’m good at and enjoy. I love books, so I instill the value of reading in my child. I love comedy, so I share my favorites with her. I’m good at writing, and drawing silly characters, and love to dance and sing, and I share all these with her because I want her to know who I am.

Where I fit in among other mothers doesn’t matter much, really, when it comes down to me and my daughter. Do I want to please mothers who are so much different than me? In the beginning, I thought I did. But they’re not me. I want to share every bit of myself with my daughter and I can’t do that if I’m trying to be someone else.

So I’ll remain who I am. Certainly my daughter won’t mind.

What kind of mother are you?

Julie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

My name is Laura, and I’ve let myself go.

2005-11-04T08:14:00.000-05:00

Are you sensing a theme in my recent entries? For me, this was a year of asking ‘Who is that person staring back at me in the mirror?’ And I’ve dissected that subject in this space a few times.

This past week was particularly hard, I turned 35. It’s an age that I’m not yet connected to. One I’m having trouble accepting. For all the reasons you can guess, the birthday made everything raw. I’m weeping often, but am sure that will subside any minute. (And will hopefully be under control before next week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy, because that show is putting me over the edge.)

During my harried Halloween day, which included a lot of car time commuting from mid-term to parade to job interview to babysitters to trick-or-treating, I caught Oprah’s show on the radio; “Have You Let Yourself Go?” (Oprah needs no promotion help from me, but I thought it may not be too repetitive if mentioned here, as most working moms don’t see the show.) Really, the show’s title tells the story. You can imagine women shared before/after stories. A vast majority moms who threw themselves into it, put everyone else first…I know, you know. I could have written the show really.

Dr. Robin Smith was the featured expert du jour. She suggests “launching your personal comeback,” which is totally an Oprah-fied phrase, but man it sounds really good. It seemed like perfect timing for me. I was crying along with the guests as they tried to grasp what happened, where it all went awry. I need a comeback! And I was confident that in a few months I’d write Oprah explaining how this show was it for me, the one that flipped the appropriate switches in my head.

“Oh I’d talked a good game, but never made all the changes until that show on Halloween,” my letter would say. (I have a vivid imagination during rush hour.)

My excitement lasted an entire commercial break. Then there was talk of starting a journal, a “Who Am I?” journal. But they don’t mean list mom, wife, Scorpio, mid-thirties. They mean answer the deeper, philosophical version of that question. My dreams - of this show as catalyst - faded. Though I did completely appreciate the doctor stressing this should consider who you are now, as the you pre-marriage, pre-motherhood or pre-that last ass you dated is gone.

I’m afraid to answer that question. Hell I’m afraid to consider its existence. First, I’m pretty sure I have no idea. Second, I fear the answer (if I had one). Third, I’m too busy putting everyone else first, studying, watching the week’s DVR’d shows and carting my children to 2nd-tier-holiday festivities to have moments of deep thought.

Have you let yourself go? Or do you know who you are? Do you want to launch your comeback? Where do you start?

Laura is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Halloween

2005-10-31T12:09:00.000-05:00

In lieu of an actual post, I will post a photo. My daughter, Olivia, enjoyed Halloween very much this year. However, she didn't enjoy the photos I made her take before we went trick or treating!

"Let's go get candy, Mom!"

Amy is a "Work It" Contributing Writer. Read more about her.

New Mom of Two

2005-10-28T10:08:00.000-04:00

Jackson Jay was born into the world on October 10, 2005 at 4:12 pm ET, after a four hour (induced) labor. He is perfect in every way! Of course we have tons of pictures, if anyone is interested just leave a comment or send me an email, I will send the link to our album.

Life as a mom of two is going well, so far at least. I haven’t been as disorganized as I expected, I feel much more in control than I did after having Sydney. I also (physically) feel so much better than last time. Labor went much more smoothly, let me just say that being induced—at least for me—is WAY better than waiting around for it to happen.

The doctor gave me the option of inducing on Monday or waiting on until that Friday, I opted to get the show on the road Monday. I checked into the hospital around 11 a.m., they started pitocin around noon and out he flew at 4:12. Won’t go into details, but daddy nearly missed the big event, no one thought I would go that fast.

Big Sister Sydney is loving her new role, she just adores Jackson. She tells me, "I love him mommy, I just love him!"

She wants to hold him ALL the time and is constantly giving him kisses. I know I need to cherish these moments, soon enough he will be mobile and grabbing her stuff. I expect the jealousy will set in at that point. Right now we are all in that honeymoon period with him, I don’t even mind that I’m getting about 4 hours sleep a night! Jack has his days and nights mixed up still, but we are working on that.

I will be taking six weeks off of work, which will put me back just after Thanksgiving. Luckily, working from home I can still keep him with me, at least until he gets more active. I am sure things will get more hectic when I am back at work, but I’m enjoying my time off now.

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Mom moves in

2005-10-27T21:30:00.000-04:00

It never bodes well when your husband calls you at work and says, “Now I need you to be strong.” A mother’s mind fills with all sorts of horrors when hearing this.

Thankfully, it wasn’t what I thought; unfortunately, it was almost as much of a shock. That day I found out that my mother-in-law needed to move in with us…and she needed to complete the move within 30 days.

A line from a John Lennon song kept replaying in my head: “Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans.” The husband and I finally felt like we had control of our lives, after moving 1400 miles 8 months earlier. He was about to be offered an excellent job after months of unemployment. And Evan (our one-year-old) was thriving. It was all good.

Then it all went out the window. We needed to rearrange our whole house and lives too. The biggest problems to face included: 1) Mom has health problems which limited potential spaces for her to live in; 2) These same health problems eliminated the possibility of her providing childcare for Evan, at least while he’s a young toddler; 3) Mom has a pet cat, which was guaranteed to cause troubles with our cats, one of whom is notably aggressive toward other cats; and 4) Mom smokes.

Now here it is, two and a half months later. Troubles 1 through 3 have basically resolved themselves, or at least have reached some sort of equilibrium. Problem 4, the smoking, is still a big source of tension – though we’re all being civil about it.

We can’t have smoking in the house. The husband and I both have asthma. We have a young son. And we have an old house with plaster walls and wood floors that will absorb odors faster than you can say “second hand smoke.” And, I know I may be thinking too far ahead, how do you convince your son that smoking is bad when Grandma smokes all she wants while living with us?

Until recently, it was an option to let Mom smoke outside. Alas, we live in upstate New York, and winter is upon us. Mom refuses to consider quitting as an option. What to do? Something’s gotta give, and it’s not going to be a good day when that happens. Stay tuned.

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

The Case Against Giving Up

2005-10-14T09:36:00.000-04:00

I have always been afraid of failure, due in part to the fact that I am perfectionist. If I can’t do something perfectly, if I can’t be the best, then why do it at all?

There’s a little fear mixed in with that, too: the fear of being embarrassed.

So why I tried out for volleyball in the 7th grade I’ll never know. Why I joined the church choir and school chorus, why I took art when I couldn’t draw—perhaps there was a part of me that wanted to prove I could do these things, and if I couldn’t, then it wasn’t for me.

Motherhood, on the other hand, was not something I could just “try out” and then give up on. I could never be perfect at it, I’d be embarrassed more times than I could count, and there’s a lot of fear involved in raising a child. I’ve never been so scared in my life.

When I became a mother, I knew I couldn’t give up. I'm not just trying things on for size anymore-- I want my life to mirror my values. I want to set a good example for my daughter.

Thus, If I give up on writing, then I extinguish a dream. If give up on my exercise class, then I stop caring about my well-being. And if I give up on Staff Council, then I lose compassion for my co-workers.

If I give up on things that are important to me, what does that say to my daughter? That she can leave when times get rough? That she can’t persevere? That she can’t follow a dream, even if it is a dream, even if it is one day replaced by another?

I see my perfectionism reflected in my daughter’s personality: the urge to do things just the right way, to have certain objects settled in just the right fashion. However, I hope I’ve also taught her that it’s okay to fail, as long as she gets up and tries again. As long as she doesn’t give up.

How do you handle occasional "failures" as a mother?

Julie is a "Work It" Contributing Writer. Read more about her.

It's a Process

2005-10-07T10:46:00.000-04:00

Since I found out I was pregnant two and a half years ago, I have been working to grow and mold my company to fit my role as a parent. In the beginning, I thought this would involve outsourcing operations, maybe hiring another project manager. I thought we could create a plan and follow it and all would be well. What I found out is that this experience would force me to constantly examine what kind of leader and mother I want to be. And struggle when those two things are in conflict. It seems that it’s never a completed job. It’s a process.

The last eight months have been as intense as the first months after Clara was born. I had to examine if what I feel for my company is actual commitment, or just attachment. I’m still not 100% sure on this one, but I know that I do love my work and I want to keep doing it.

I had to accept that I was in a pretty heavy post-partum depression. I finally found The Mood Cure, and have regained my old vitality and motivation. Recently, two colleagues described me as “compassionate” and “approachable.” Previously, people likely referred to me as “driven” or “fearless” which sound like compliments, but are more descriptive of the dark side of ambition rather than effective leadership. Coming into my own as the head of a company, at the same time that I’m getting my bearings as a parent, has been the ultimate in processing.

And now we’re hiring again and I’m making careful decisions about who I bring on, knowing they’re going to be my support system during my next pregnancy (I learned a lot the last time around). We’ll move our office to a space where I can have a nanny and Clara close to me. Another mother/business owner warned me about making business decisions that are dictated by parenting and not market needs.

This decision, at least today, I’m sure of. I love the work, but I have to do everything I can to make it work around parenting. When I referred to this approach as unorthodox, someone questioned my commitment to it. I can’t say I’m 100% committed. Who knows if it will work? But I’ll never know unless I give it a shot. It’s a process of constantly examining what’s most important, and what you’re willing to give up. It’s always a process.

Have you struggled with Post-Partum depression?

Kat is a "Work It" Contributing Writer. Read more about her.

Getting Away

2005-10-03T13:49:00.000-04:00

It goes without saying, but us moms always feel the need to say it anyway, that I adore my husband and my daughter. But once a year I spend a weekend away with my college girlfriends, and it's nice to be away.

There are six to seven of us who gather each year. We try to pick a different area each time, one that's convenient, within driving distance and also provides the required things for a Girl's Weekend. (For us that includes somewhere with walking access to something interesting, as well as near a place that serves cornbeef hash for breakfast, oddly enough.) This year we headed to Charlottesville, VA, where we soaked in the autumn weather on the Downtown Mall each day. We also made good use of our time at the Monticello wine festival.

The weekend was a much needed break. Each of us seems to be at a crossroads with work, family and personal issues. I suppose that's what the early 30s embody. Much of the weekend conversation wrapped around our commitments to our family and careers. I admire my college girlfriends because each has balanced their parenting with other commitments, like their careers. And I truly believe we are all conscious and careful parents as a result.

While I always miss my girlfriends terribly, the end of Girl's Weekend each fall usually signals the beginning of the extended holiday season, and this year is no different. This week begins the final leg of planning for Olivia's third birthday party, decorating for Fall/Halloween and creating a working plan to manage the rest of the season - including Thanksgiving and Christmas. I adore this time of year - but I also tend to work myself up into a tizzy several times by Christmas.

I think flexibility is going to be in order this year. There's no question that from here until the end of the year, things are going to be hopping. I simultaneously love and hate all of the hustle and bustle this time of year requires.

Do you have a regular time with girlfriends? How do you handle the holiday rush?

Amy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

New Baby Nerves

2005-09-23T10:57:00.000-04:00

I still cannot believe I am just days away (due October 12) from delivering baby #2!

In many ways this pregnancy has been much more difficult. I had moderate bleeding early on, my doctor even brought up the possibility of a miscarriage. I was terrified. Thankfully, all resolved itself by week 12 and I haven’t had a problem since. I have felt more aches and pains than before, especially in my back.

I feel much more tired, but then again I am chasing around a 2.5-year-old now in addition to working full time and doing the day to day house stuff. On the flip side, this pregnancy has gone by much faster than the first and I have a good idea on what to expect (most of the time).

I am not nearly as prepared this time as I was with Syd. I get exhausted just thinking about it all! Since we will be moving about 2 months after this baby is born, I have no nursery to set up. I do still need to unpack and/or wash everything we already own (bassinet, bedding, clothes, etc). I did buy a couple packs of diapers, some unisex sleepers/gowns and some new snap front shirts (love those!). I do still need to get a new bouncer and Boppy pillow. We actually went to ‘that big baby superstore’ the other week to pick up new baby supplies but my husband said we should wait to buy those "In case someone might want to buy them for us."

Ummm, okay. "Whatever you say sweetheart."

He just hates parting with money, period. If he can delay buying it for two to three weeks he will.

In many ways I am more nervous now than I was before. I think it’s because I am more fully aware of all the things that ‘could’ go wrong. I have felt a LOT more Braxton Hicks contractions this time around, which has me hoping I might possibly go into labor early. Yeah I know, wishful thinking.

I went to the doctor this past Monday. They did an ultrasound to determine size. They estimate the baby to weigh 5 pounds 11 ounces, exactly what they said about Syd (she was 6 lb.s 11oz. at birth). I’m thinking this baby will probably be about the same size as her, which is good. The midwife said the baby is VERY, VERY low.

She said, "I’ve never actually said this before, but I think you will not make it to your due date!"

By my next posting I will have another baby. Wow! Holy cow, how did that happen so fast?

Any advice for a soon to be mom of two?

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Of Head Colds and Ear Infections

2005-09-19T11:05:00.000-04:00

You’d think that after almost a year of this, I could tell the difference between a runny-nose-and-congested baby and one who has a full-blown ear infection. I thought I read somewhere that moms could just tell by the way their child cries what the deal is. And, somehow, I always thought that babies and kids could get sick with absolutely no effect on their parents.

Whatever.

Evan’s had a few ear infections thus far. The good news is that he really likes the taste of the Amoxicillin he gets. The bad news is two-fold: Mommy’s allergic to Amoxicillin, and Amoxicillin doesn’t always take care of the nasty ear infection.

I was pretty sure that Evan was coming down with a cold on Thursday. By Friday, it was obviously a BAD cold, but Evan was in such good spirits, he just couldn’t be THAT sick. And with a little cleaning up, he was good as new. So I attended to my day as always.

By Saturday night, it was clear that I was coming down with Evan’s cold. Now I was just SURE that Evan couldn’t give me a cold. Isn’t there a rule? Evan himself was a little rough looking so we made the call to the pediatrician that we probably should have made the day before. They said to call in the morning if he didn’t improve.

Ev must have heard that, ‘cause the next day he looked remarkably better. Still coughing, a little feverish, but much improved. I, on the other hand, was not doing so hot. Or maybe I was doing too hot – I felt horrible.

I stayed home on Monday, because I was deliriously sick. I took Evan to daycare – his temperature was normal and he was in good spirits – thinking that I could recuperate at home alone. At about 2:00 pm, I got the phone call that I had been expecting all day: “Evan’s running a fever. Please come get him. He can’t come in tomorrow. Bye now.”

Why can’t kids be sick on a more convenient schedule – like when I’m NOT sick?

Thankfully, we are all healthy again. Evan had infections in BOTH ears, which are now cleared up. (Always trust your instincts and take the baby to the doctor!!) And in the end, Ev managed to give his cold to both Mommy AND Daddy. Is that allowed? I gotta read that rulebook again!

How do you handle childhood sickness or Mommy sickness?

Penny is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

New Job

2005-09-16T10:00:00.000-04:00

Who likes switching jobs? Not me! For starters it makes me feel like a failure as a mother. Why? Because I feel as though I should have a stable job. You see, I've been at the same place since I had my son. It's retail. Crazy hours, projects to do at home, having to fill in for others who call in sick, and SELLING.

Who wants to sell anything, when I am already at home constantly trying to sell my son green beans and carrots? Or trying to sell the toilet to him --A "great place to poo-poo!" I finally gave up and decided to find a better work place that would make it a better world for all of us. But, with no college degree I was a bit worried. Every mother knows, if you are stressed out over work, so is the family.

I was so stressed, that I had forgotten to take time out and rock my child. Or to simply run around outside with him. Or even laugh when he threw himself on the floor in a tantrum. I decided I wanted my life back.

I got a job offer as a receptionist at a medical office. Life is looking up. I laugh more, I have more energy (because I can stay on the same hourly schedule), and my son always knows what time I am coming and going. It's hard having to start new relationships, and to learn a totally different job. Its like the first day of school at a new school. Except your older, and you DO care what people think. But its worth it for me, and my family.

Your place of work is your second home, so it's gotta be half way enjoyable.

How do you balance working and motherhood?

Missy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

You Just Gotta Laugh

2005-09-12T13:02:00.000-04:00

One thing you learn when you have a baby is that you somehow miraculously end up on every possible mailing list, for snail mail or email. Even random people you meet seem to get the word and want to offer you suggestions, tips, discounts for your new child.

So I still get lots of junk mail, 2.5 years later. One of the emails I get is the Pampers Pages (TM I'm sure). And today's note reminded me that, regardless of how humorous your child's antics might be, you should be sure to keep your reprimand somber and reserve your laughter for later in private.

I'm sorry, but anyone who's ever parented a toddler who thinks it's funny to stick three cotton swabs in each ear and chase the dog around the house knows that this is an impossibility. Is it dangerous for her to stick cotton swabs in her ears like that? Yes. Should I stop her from running in the house? Of course. Should I interfere on the dog's behalf and save her from toddler terror? No question. But do I have to somehow become super-human and prevent myself from laughing first? Not going to happen. It's entirely too funny.

Sure, I know what they're trying to get at. I understand the concept that if I laugh at her I'm encouraging the behavior. But I don't think that's all there is to it. I do want her to understand that there is behavior that is right and behavior that is wrong. But I also want her to understand that I think she's really funny. So instead of being stern and mean, I chuckle and try to suggest safer ways of doing things while reprimanding the more dangerous parts of her antics. And she seems to get it. Instead of shoving the swabs in herself, she brings them to me now and asks me to help her do it. And she stands in front of us and dances, a more willing audience than the fleeing dog. Daddy and I laugh and cheer, and no reprimands are in order.

Kerry is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Ten Ways to Alleviate Stress

2005-09-09T11:02:00.000-04:00

1. Talk to someone: a friend, your husband, the cat, yourself. Do not call your mother.

2. If you have time to sleep, then sleep. If you don't, eat chocolate. Or potato chips. Or ice cream. Better yet, eat them all.

3. Listen to U2’s song “Vertigo” or Soundgarden’s “Rusty Cage” as loud as you can stand at least five times in a row. Any similar rock and roll song will do.

4. Talk really sweetly to your child(ren). It will remind you that you can be a good person even when you feel stretched beyond your limits.

5. Lock yourself in the bathroom and take a sequence of deep breaths. Remember to breathe out.

6. Stay up as late as possible watching either corny television shows or movies. Even watching Mars Attacks, with the martian’s heads blowing up from the high-pitched sound of a crooner’s voice, would work. Imagine your own head turning into goo.

7. Go outside. Anything outside the building you’re in will do. Stand by a tree or watch the birds soar through the air. Do not think about how much freedom they have. Think of feathers and how pretty they were when you found them on the ground as a child.

8. Repeat sayings to yourself such as, “Que sera, sera,” or “One day at a time.” Or one of my favorites from Winston Churchill: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

9. Exercise. Run a few laps around the building that imprisons you. Run as fast as you can without tripping. Or take up yoga. Enjoy watching other people bend themselves backward and forward, even standing on their heads. Run a few laps around the building again.

10. Play a game on the computer. If you have a Playstation or X-box, play a game that will take you into a different world or dimension. If you don’t have a game system, try Spider solitaire, Free Cell, or traditional solitaire, and play until you’ve won at least three times.

Of course, these are only possibilites. Feel free to try or add others at any time.

What do you do to alleviate stress?

Julie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Be Thankful

2005-09-05T20:41:00.000-04:00

In my hectic life of working, being a mother, cleaning, and being a wife, I tend to get so frustrated that I never take the time to "smell the roses" and realize just how lucky I am to have all these things in my life. The past week has made me step back and see things in a different light. For those of you who don't know me, I live in North Louisiana, so I am fairly close to the situation with Hurricane Katrina.

The past week has made me realize so many things....

Be thankful for your company's crazy policies and office-wide emails. Why you may ask? Because this means that you have a job. You don't have to wonder how you will pay your bills or feed your family. Your company is housed in a building that is still standing with food and drinks in a crummy vending machine that other people would give $100 for right now, let alone a measly $1.

Be glad you have enough laundry to keep Tide securely in business. This means that you have more clothes than the ones on your back. You also probably have shoes and the proverbial clean underwear.

Smile when you trip over a toy. This means that your child has toys to keep him busy and that every single Happy Meal toy that has ever been offered is securely in your home, which by the way is still standing.

Don't grit your teeth when your mother calls not to ask how you are, but how her "little man" is. This means that you know where your mother is and don't have to wonder if she's alive, if she's hurt, and if she has food and water to keep her that way. This also means that you have a working phone that you are able to use.

And finally, be glad when you finally fall asleep and your husband rolls over and "meaningfully" gives you a hug and kiss. This means that you have a home with a roof over your head and a bed with clean sheets and pillows. You also have a husband who loves you and that you know is safe.

Being around these hurricane victims has really put my life into perspective and made me a little less worried about day to day chores and has made me a little more aware at just how lucky I really am.

Melissa is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Holy Roller

2005-08-29T14:22:00.000-04:00

We have affectionately nicknamed our daughter the "Holy Roller." In recent months, I began praying with Olivia at dinner time and bed time. I started because when we ate dinner at my parent's house, Olivia would chat all the way through the prayer. I worried my parents would think we were raising a little atheist. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

My husband and I are not openly religious. But I consider myself to be spiritual and have always valued the role of religion and spirituality in my life. Truthfully, I wasn't sure what my husband would think of the new prayer addition. But even he seemed to embrace it. Olivia loved it and eagerly claps her hands together in the prayer fold for every meal. Now she reminds us to pray if we forget. And she's taken to saying a lot of the prayers herself. Most of our prayers are "thank you" prayers and "please be with" prayers. Last night, Olivia prayed thanks for friends, dinner and something I couldn't quite make out. It's been a good exercise in gratitude for all of us.

Earlier this summer, Olivia attended Vacation Bible School for a week with our daycare provider. One evening she broke out into a rendition of "Deep and Wide," an old Bible song that is etched into my mind. Every summer of my childhood, we'd visit my now 105-year-old Grandmother and she'd putter around the house singing "Deep and Wide." I feel like Olivia channels my Grandmother's wavering but steadfast voice every time she breaks out into a random chorus of the song.

This summer I also began taking Olivia to my church regularly. One Sunday I got her from the nursery after church and walked her into the sanctuary, where we sat down on a pew and watched people visiting after the service. Olivia was entranced as I explained to her that this was where I came to "listen" every Sunday.

I've heard other people say their two-year-olds would sit through church services, but I've always assumed Olivia would have none of that. After all, this is the child who won't sit for a 25-minute Elmo video. But I decided to give it a try. Olivia now sits with me for the first part of church each Sunday.

It still surprises me to see her so content to quietly observe the rituals. I've continued to bring her back to the sanctuary after church too. We sit and take it all in...the smell of the old wood, the breeze from the ceiling fans (it's a very old church with no air conditioning), the smell of perfume and bodies lingering together, the warmth of the faces around us. My almost-three-year-old has done more to heal the flesh wounds left by my disappointments in organized religion than all of my time spent trying to understand it. Imagine that.

Amy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Striving for Balance

2005-08-23T20:42:00.000-04:00

What is all this talk of putting yourself first?

The parenting magazines, my mother, Oprah - they all strongly suggest it. I threw my whole self into motherhood. But I'm three years in and worn out. The compromise and selflessness, the juggling of priorities that aren't mine. It's constant. Unyielding. Along the way I've made small efforts at me time, but they're never re-occurring; a night out with the girls here, a mental health day off from work there. Apparently I'm doing this all wrong. I know, I'm not alone.

I've been feeling off forever, or just a very long time. I'm tired. Like first trimester tired. And forgetful, which isn't an accurate description of my daily, major "Oh, crap" moments. I now carry a notebook in my bag to consult when I forget why I'm driving to any given destination. Also, I'm disconnected in a way that makes me feel slightly out of control.

These are the things I was told to expect with motherhood, but one day about a month ago I decided it's gone on long enough and made a doctor's appointment. After a long talk about my symptoms and current lifestyle, my doctor sent me off for a battery of blood tests. The good news - and the bad news - is that there's nothing wrong with me (So far. There are still blood test results I don't know about, but the doc assured me she's covering all bases with these.)

Before the first set of results came back, I found myself sort of hoping it would be...something. Because God forbid I face facts. I used to be the woman who regularly exercised, who ate healthy, who got a pedicure just because, who took time to relax. I used to be her. And I was in denial about not being her anymore.

I own a well-worn t-shirt that says "Love. Peace. Balance. Harmony." Each has a corresponding icon. Ironically, it used to be a regular piece of my workout wardrobe. I wore it recently and repeated those words 8 million times because my oldest asked that many times. By midday I was thinking one out of four ain't bad. Except it is bad, I want all four.

During that first doctor's appointment a month ago, I was expecting the pat answer - the mom of young kids diagnosis. But my lovely doc - also a mother of two small children - said, "The fact that you're here, in a non-pediatrician doctor's office, for something going on with you says to me that it's something to take seriously." Us moms, we wait until a limb is falling off to use a half hour on a frivolous appointment for ourselves.

Last week, I was handed an opportunity - I'm technically not a "working" mother right now. And that's okay because I'm craving a change - a big change - in that area. I was never completely comfortable with turning away from something safe for the unknown. Not because I don't like to take chances, but because the mom and wife I've become assumed it was irresponsible. Now I have my chance to pursue what I want, what I've been dreaming of. Something that will ultimately be good for my family, but first satisfies one of my needs.

I'm working on balance. Harmony and peace are sure to follow.

Laura is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Pet Peeves

2005-08-22T10:10:00.000-04:00

Let me preface this by saying I love my husband with all of my being. I don’t know what I’d do without him and don’t want to ever find out. That being said, we both do things that annoy one another.

Here's an example from last week. My husband walks into the living room and says, "Okay, I know I’m the last person you would want to hear this from, but I’ve got a big pet peeve with you!"

I thought, "A pet peeve? With me?"

He tells me, "It really bugs me that you always leave garbage out on the counter when the trash is two steps away."

Let me back up about a half- hour and give some background… It’s time to get the Sydney a snack, a bath and into bed. I spent about 10 minutes getting her to tell me what she wants to eat. She settled on the kid staple—Mac and Cheese. So, I am trying to cook her food, get her bath and bed stuff ready and figure out what we are going to eat. The food is ready so I stir that up real quick and dish some out for her. She eats, we go take a bath and get her into bed. After all that, I go in the living room and sit for all of 30 seconds before husband walks in. This puts us back to his pet peeve. Evidently, in my haste to get everything taken care of, I had forgotten to toss out the cheese packet from the mac and cheese I made.

I felt I had to list a few of MY pet peeves about him. But where to start? Some of my pet peeves about my husband include:

- Not putting his dirty clothes IN the laundry basket in our room, but on the floor two feet away.

- Leaving various items in pants pockets, not to mention all his pants are inside out.

- Putting the toilet paper wherever he feels like it instead of in the basket where I keep it.

- NEVER getting up with Sydney on the weekends.

- NEVER doing anything alone with Sydney or helping with the bedtime ritual.

And the list goes on and on and on! I choose the toilet paper one because I have not mentioned that to him before. I was very nice about it and explained it’s tough for me at night to fumble around looking for it. He agreed I had a point and said he would try to do better. It has been almost a week and I’ve yet to see it happen even once.

So, what are your biggest pet peeves?

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

The Night Of Forever

2005-08-15T08:28:00.000-04:00

It was 3 in the morning. I’d given up on sleeping. I tossed and turned, counted sheep, drank warm milk (which was awful) and took a hot shower. Nothing worked. I felt… something. Some kind of butterfly, some kind of anxiety filling my skinny 19-year-old belly. I wondered what I could be worrying about. Work? Family? Preg...pregnancy?

The thought never crossed my mind until that night. No sign of my period, but I didn’t think about it until that moment. Probably nothing, I thought. But, I didn't use protection and I AM TWO WEEKS LATE! Must be stress, must be all in my head, the calendar must be wrong. Or, I am pregnant.

I live on my own, no one to wake up, no one to call – everyone is sleeping. I pull on my jeans, toss up my hair and drive to the nearest store that is open. I grab a pregnancy test. I pay for it, and as I leave, the clerk says to me "I'm so excited for you, Good luck!"

I am furious. How could she wish me good luck when I am only 19? I open it the moment I’m home, and feel an instant urge to urinate. Immediately it shows positive. I wipe the sweat from my forehead. I look at my clock until five minutes have passed. Glance at the test lying in the same spot where I dropped it. Positive. Still positive! I'm pregnant!

I'm young; don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I live in a tiny apartment, with hand-me-down furniture. I don't have a boyfriend; I don't even have a relationship with the man I had intercourse with. It’s been almost 2 months since I've seen him!

I lie on the floor of the bathroom for the rest of the night nauseated by this outcome, and nervous that I have to break this news to the rest of the world. Scared by my future. Who will ever accept me and love me now? How could I do this to myself, my body, my family and now another human being?

Editor's Note: We welcome Missy to our working moms fold - she brings a unique perspective as a single mom (now happily engaged). We were reminded with this post that pregnancy can be filled with scary, sweaty moments, and we appreciate Missy for sharing hers.

Missy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Daycare versus daycare

2005-08-08T08:00:00.000-04:00

It is very important when seeking daycare for your child that you visit more than one to help you make your ultimate decision. Even if it's just one other facility.

This is what we did yesterday morning. It took us all of 30 minutes, which honestly is a little too short for me to feel comfortable with a potential daycare.

Because the visit took such a short time; because I found out the daycare doesn't allow pull-ups, only diapers or cotton undies; because there were no children my daughter's age there; because we got to speak with the director for all of five seconds; Chad and I have decided to enroll our daughter in the previous daycare facility we’d visited. Everything about it felt much more comfortable to us than this one.

That's really what helped us make our decision: the comfort level. At the other daycare, the teachers and director spent a lot of time with us. They answered all of our questions. Eleanor hit it off with a few of the kids, got to see some babies and cried when it was time to go. As we were leaving, she cried, "My school, my school!"

After I paid the registration fee, wonderful details about the school kept coming up: Eleanor can visit for a free day before she actually starts in mid-August; I can stop by anytime I like and even join her for lunch; and the center has babysitters available on Friday nights once a month so parents can have time to themselves.

Once again, I trusted my intuition and am proud of myself. Yes, I still hate the fact that Eleanor has to be enrolled in daycare this fall, but I feel good about my choice. That's most important. So many times parents are forced to take the first available opening because they don't have other options. We're lucky we did.

Julie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her here.

What No One Told Me

2005-08-05T16:33:00.000-04:00

A lot of people look for outward changes when a woman becomes a mother and it isn’t hard to spot them. A new mother is usually evident by the frazzled look of confusion on her face, spit up on her shirt, and a few extra pounds hidden under the maternity clothes that she still wears while hoping no one notices that they are the same ones in the window of Motherhood Maternity.

These are the changes I envisioned for myself when I was pregnant. I realized that time for makeup, hair and clothes would be at a minimum, and I pictured myself looking sloppy, yet radiant, pushing a stroller with a baby no one could resist babbling to while looking at me admiringly for contributing such a fine addition to the human race.

I never pictured that I would rarely make it out the door for such trips and that radiant would no longer be a word in my vocabulary. I also didn’t realize that the inward changes would far outweigh the outward changes.

Shopping trips became a quest to find an adorable outfit for a baby who would surely spit up on it or have a leaky diaper causing the perfect outfit to be just another crumpled onesie in the laundry hamper. Before becoming a mother, I couldn’t fathom going shopping without coming home with a little something for me. Now purchases for me usually encompass picture frames to show off yet another picture of my adorable little boy, or a shirt in just the right shade of graham cracker so that all the messy handprints will blend right in.

No one told me that long distance telephone commercials and sappy music videos would overflow my tear ducts. No one told me that 4 years before kindergarten, I would already be worried about the quality of public schools in my area and how much money the private schools cost. I never thought that the sexiest things my husband would do is change a diaper or get up with a crying baby.

I also never thought of pizza or spagetti shared while a baby sleeps as a romantic dinner. I never dreamed that a trip to the grocery store would be planned around naps, meals and the times when the least amount of germ carriers are out and about. If I had known what I know now, I would have bought stock in Purell and made myself rich while killing germs at the same time.

And finally, no one told me how totally in love I would be with this tiny little boy. No one told me that I would gladly share a bed with someone who hits me and kicks me in the face while sleeping or that I would gladly put down this month’s Glamour to read Go Dog Go for the hundredth time. I’m kind of glad no one told me, it makes this whole thing even more of an adventure.

Melissa is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Long Weekends

2005-07-25T01:17:00.000-04:00

Day three of our long weekend off and I’m settling into a very comfortable routine as is Olivia, our two-year-old. She’s been sleeping late, giving her father and I an odd sense of relaxation that comes with an extra hour of sleep. Tomorrow marks the last day of relaxation before the week knocks at the door again.

I work at home two days a week. Life falls into a rhythm around those days and the weekend. Monday, Wednesday and Friday are marked by a frantic commute to the office and back, and many meetings in between. Tuesdays and Thursdays are work-at-home days made special by having my daughter here with me for part of the day. Then Saturday and Sunday take on normal weekend qualities. By the time we do all the chores we neglect during the week, it’s time to prepare for the work week again.

These four work-free days will be over after tomorrow but we’ve made them count. Two family dinners, lots of time spent with Olivia taking in all of her new skills, and time appreciating our new home. Not to mention countless loads of laundry, an old-fashioned mopping of the kitchen, and a bit of shopping. (Okay, and naps for the adults in the house too, I admit it!)

I choose to be a working mom for many reasons but I’ll be the first to admit it isn’t always easy. One of the sacrifices is often downtime. You have to find ways to appreciate the free time when it comes along. The long weekends take on extra meaning. We lounge in our pajamas, watch television together and slow down to linger through a few days.

What are your special long-weekend traditions?

Amy is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Raising a Comedian

2005-07-15T10:16:00.000-04:00

Any parent, depending on their child’s age, can either recall or look forward to the funny things kids say. Syd is now 27 months old and we are just starting to get into that. I want to follow her around with a video camera so I don’t forget these things as she grows. I’ve already noticed she has changed the way she says some words, they are much more distinct now. She is replacing those with more interesting phrases and amusing words. She has also become quite the little comedian.

Over the long holiday weekend, we drove around our soon-to-be new town to get a lay of the land. While in the car, I asked Syd if she was hungry, not anticipating the hilarity that would follow.

ME: Sydney, are you hungry?
Syd: YES
ME: Do you want lunch?
Syd: YES!
ME: What would you like to eat?
Syd: Um, a piece of cow!
ME (thinking I misheard her): A piece of cow?
Syd: YES!
ME: OK, what do we call a piece of cow?
Syd: FOOD!

I could not help but laugh at that! Not only are we raising a genius (aren’t we all though?), we are raising a comedian! I haven’t the foggiest idea where she got the knowledge to associate a cow with food! I know we haven’t explained that yet.

That is one of the many times I wish I had the camera on to capture. I’d love to hear what other hilarities I can expect to hear and when I should look into surgically attaching that video camera to capture it all!

What types of funny things are your children doing these days?

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Community Needed

2005-07-08T17:00:00.000-04:00

I’m not a churchgoer. I have an overwhelming need for community. For fellowship and discussion. I envy the people who find these through their place of worship. I am an Internetgoer. It provides a certain sense of community - like hanging out in a virtual cafe with some good and trusted friends. I value all of them. And am still amazed that technology made such meetings possible. Of course, the technology is also the problem. I meet wonderful women I would not have without it, but those women are not so easily gathered for a picnic.

Honestly, in my offline life I’m often lonely.

I’m not sure how this happened. I have friends. (I do!) But they are either a plane ride away, or in various degrees of single or non-parenthood. And though we all try our best to keep in touch, such drastic changes and differences in our lives prevent us from ever really being the way we were. Without knowing what’s really going on with them – deeper than the surface work/home/family issues – I’m hesitant to share what’s really going on with me. I often feel left out of their lives. They probably feel the same.

There are a few other circumstances that put in me in a bit of a disadvantage. I have a full-time job. My husband works until 9 pm. I have two children under 3. I live in a neighborhood of seniors and teenagers. I have a house of unfinished projects and piles of laundry. I have no reliable babysitter. These are not insurmountable; but they do prevent me from joining the most obvious and ubiquitous moms groups. Truthfully, I’m skeptical, at best, about most of them anyway.

I crave a group of relatively like-minded women. And by like-minded I mean, want to start real friendships and nurture them into lifelong bonds. I prefer diversity in all other aspects. Being a mom is not required – though it would be nice; other working moms – that would be really, really nice. We set longstanding, weekly meetups – but no pressure. Our kids will play, fight and cry together. Our husbands are also involved; to the degree husbands get involved in anything. We pick a charity or two and work toward bettering our community. We’re not all BFF, but everyone feels comfortable calling any other person for help, for a shopping buddy, for an exercise partner, for advice. And if I may dream a not-so-little dream, we form some sort of babysitting co-op.

Does such a group exist? How hard would it be to start one? Do I have to start attending church? Am I the only one who has not yet formed an offline relationship using the “My kid and your kid go to the same…” network?

Whirling dervish

2005-06-27T14:07:00.000-04:00

Somewhere along the line, I think I figured out how to do this mothering thing. I don't really know how it happened. One night I am lying in a hospital bed hopped up on slow drip morphine with an hour-old baby slumped on my chest, and the next I'm a (somewhat) confident mom of a glowing toddler. It's very strange the progression of confidence that comes with such tremendous responsibility.

When Joe, Ceili and I came home from the hospital I was still in shock. We hauled the balloons and gifts in, I sat down to nurse the baby and thought to myself: "Uh-oh. Now what?" I truly had a crisis moment, which was but a glimmer of the many crisis moments I would have in those first few fragile months.

I can't say if the crisis moments have gone away, or if I've simply grown accustomed to them as a part of life. Sure, I still occasionally have out-of-body moments when I look at myself and my mothering and think "What on EARTH am I doing?!" But most of the time I am just plodding along, doing my thing and we all somehow survive.

Something more has come from it though. I'm starting to be content with the job I'm doing. I don't say this to discount my husband; he does his own fine job. When I see Ceili reflected in others' eyes, I am able to step aside and admire the person she is becoming through our guidance. People regularly comment on how "good" she is, but we all hear that at some point about our kids. They say she's "adorable," but most toddlers are.

The more thoughtful comments make all the difference. You know the ones I mean. You're out somewhere and there's a stranger watching your child; not in that creepy stalker way that makes you want to turn into a banshee and tear their eyes out. More in that quiet admiration way. And after a few moments, or even a few minutes, they make a different kind of comment. Like the lady who told us yesterday at Sam's Club that Ceili is clearly such a loving child. She was being her normal whirling dervish self, but she kept wanting to be held so she could give gentle kisses, hugs and nose kisses.

I don't know why, but the admiration in the woman's voice after watching us just be ourselves as a family really struck a chord with me. Those kind of comments have been happening more and more often lately. Maybe she had some loss in her life. Maybe she didn't, but had a wonderful life full of her own "loving" children whom she misses. Maybe she couldn't relate at all, but simply liked what she was seeing and wanted us to know. Whatever it was, it made me appreciate the life I've chosen just a little bit more.

Kerry is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Generations

2005-06-18T10:30:00.000-04:00

As my children grow older, I find myself wondering how much of my past I’ll divulge to them. There are certain life lessons I will definitely impart, but as the mother of a little girl entering the “tween” phase, I don’t know how much she’ll listen.

My parents seemed so old to me when I was younger, when in truth, they weren’t all that much older then me. Babies they were when I was born, both in their very early twenties. But the life they lived before I came seemed so much simpler, so much more innocent that there was a definite disconnect when I entered my “tween” and teen years. Their generation lived in fear of a nuclear holocaust, mourned a president, lived through an impeachment, and fought in the Viet Nam war, and celebrated free love and peace.

My generation has witnessed the birth of MTV, the coming of AIDS, and the death of marriage. We’ve rocked along with heavy metal hair bands and clothed ourselves in neon colors. We’ve witnessed space shuttle explosions, the end of the Cold War and the birth of the Internet. We've seen the effect of terrorism up close, in two separate horrific incidents. We're in a throes of a war not many claim to understand and we're losing more and more soldiers everyday.

How do the two compare? Who had the hardest childhood? Is it even a competition?

I'm probably looking at my parent's generation through glasses colored by movies and television shows of idyllic family life. My parents seem to view my childhood as having everything they couldn't. Families were larger then. Mothers stayed home with the children. Mortgages were a lot smaller. Television was a black and white affair. Children were not to speak unless spoken to. I could never imagine having to finish every single brussel sprout on my plate. *shudder*

I wonder what the future world of my children will bring and what lessons I can impart that will seem relevant. I know I had a hard time seeing my parents as teenagers. I’m trying through pictures and stories to teach my children that yes, I once was their age and everything they feel and are going through I went through to.

The hardest thing for me right now is watching her grow older. I want to talk to her, but I’m not sure I want to be her friend. If she gets in trouble as a teen, I don’t want her to be afraid to approach me about it. Now as she's growing and changing, I can feel the gap between us becoming larger. Somehow, I need to find a way to bridge that gap, to keep it from becoming a canyon. How can I continue to protect her when she wants more and more freedom from me?

I was a "good girl" as a teenager, only because I was too afraid to be anything else. It was a fear of my own making, my parents never threatened me to be good. I didn't smoke, I didn't drink and I was a virgin until I was seventeen.

How can I give my daughter that same direction? How can I have the important conversation with her about sex, pregnancy and disease? Do I still have time to not worry about it or is nine a good age to start?

Nine just seems so young. Why does a nine year old need to know about sex?

I’m not quite sure yet how I’m going to accomplish all this, but I’m learning.

Beverly is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Swimming

2005-06-03T15:22:00.000-04:00

I’ll never forget my friend’s horror at her child’s full-immersion baptism. “Father, NO!” she cried as we nervously observed the sacrament. Those words still haunt me, as they were my first clue to the heart-wrenching business of parenting.

It wasn’t until after my son Nathaniel was born that I realized the full impact of her anguish—the momentary loss of control blended with pure fear and a parent’s protective instinct. Excursions around town with my newborn were comparable to shielding a chicken egg from damage. Was he really that vulnerable? Probably not. But as author John Irving noted, “When you have children, the world suddenly becomes a place where something could happen.”

As the parent of a now two-year-old, one of my greatest sources of anxiety is the fact that we live in a coastal community where summertime means swimming, surfing and sailing. I’m bracing for the day my baby becomes the surfboard-packing teenager intent on hitting the waves solo. In the meantime, my toddler is enrolled in swim lessons—intense, one-on-one sessions geared toward survival. This gives me peace of mind. At least for now.

In the weeks prior to the first lesson, I talked about swimming pools and water constantly to get my little boy psyched about his first pool trip. And then the day arrived. With new, blue swim diapers, he excitedly approached the heated pool. And then it hit us—the screams and cries of children experiencing their first lesson. It was almost time for my son’s turn and all I could think was, “They’re torturing children and mine is next.”

My little egg’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars as I gingerly placed him in the swim instructor’s arms.

“Are…you…putting…him…under…water today?” I hesitantly asked.

“Yes,” replied the teacher.

But before I could utter my version of “Father NO,” she swept my little boy into the water. Which he hated. Through searing tears, we continued our daily pool trips. It was pure misery for both of us. That is, until he started to relax. Now he giggles during the lesson. His favorite part is swimming under water to catch the fish etched into the pool tiles. When he pops his head up and greets me with “Hi!” my heart just melts. What a relief. He still gets irritated when learning something new, but for the most part he enjoys the experience.

Nathaniel has been swimming for three weeks and has come such a long way. We both have. One of the most profound lessons I have learned in my lifetime is that not even the smallest measure of success happens without a certain degree of tears, frustration and angst. But if you grow into someone who continuously swims upward in spite of the tide, the fresh air above can be simply divine. That my son is learning this at the age of two is bittersweet.

Sherry is contributing to "Work it" as an occasional guest writer. Read more about her.

CH-ch-ch-changes

2005-05-20T08:34:00.000-04:00

Lots of changes around our household in the last two months...

I started a new job recently. It was a very difficult decision to make, somewhat a "leap of faith" for me. I had been at my old company for seven years and was feeling quite comfortable. Unfortunately, I was also extremely unhappy and longing for a new challenge. A unique opportunity began to develop in mid-March and on the 25th I decided to take the leap and resign. By the following Wednesday I had accepted a new offer. Not only does my new job offer me the opportunity for new challenges, but I am working remotely full time AND secured a 25% raise! I cannot even describe how happy I am now. My stress level has dropped dramatically and I am actually excited about work again.

Secondly and most significant, we are very pleased to announce that baby #2 is on the way, due October 12. I had some severe early complications and the doctor was not at all sure of the viability. He recommended I wait until 16 weeks to announce to others. I can now happily say I am 19 weeks and doing great. I go in for the big ultrasound on June 1, although we’ve decided to NOT find out the sex. Work is absolutely thrilled about this, which confirmed to me I made the right decision.

The last piece of news is slowly developing. We have started the process of looking for land/a new home builder. We started looking to move a couple months ago, just trying to see what was out there. Everything we looked at in our price range needed serious remodeling and I REFUSE to do that again—we just remodeled our current house a year ago. We then did some calculations and realized we could build a house for less than we could buy the equivalent. Luckily, the area we are looking in has lots of land for sale. So, if anyone out there has built a house I would love any suggestions or tips you may have.

JenMarie is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.

Act 2: The Alana guilt

2005-05-10T21:18:00.000-04:00

“Mama, I miss you when you work.”

It’s the current mantra of my preschooler. Repeated daily, it tears at my heart a little each time. She doesn't only say it to me. During Mother's Day Tea at daycare, we played a game. Each child finished a sentence "My mommy likes to..." and "My mommy is always..." The answers were on a big board and the moms took turns guessing which one applied. On the "My mommy is always..." board were four versions of "working." Of course one of them "My mommy is always at work" was Alana's answer. Sigh. Let’s assume I’m confident in my choice to be a working mother. Most days it’s true. The days it isn’t true? They’re harsh. Lately those days string together to form long, tortuous weeks. We’re having many conversations wherein I try to explain why I have to go to work in terms she can understand. I’m finding no such terms exist. She doesn’t get it. Perhaps she won’t for a very long time.

“We’re going through a difficult phase.” It’s my mantra of late.

She’s being two and I’m being 34. That’s quite an explosive combination. Some days I capably handle tantrums about the position of broccoli in relation to the chicken. Other days, especially if I’m tired, I behave just as irrationally as she. The little voice inside my head asks ‘Why are you arguing with a 2-year old?’

Most often that voice stops it. I step away and refresh my approach. Inevitably, when replaying those minutes of my grown-up tantrum, I beat myself up for each second of it. I fear in 10 years her one memory of two will be me raising my voice in frustration.

Motherhood begets guilt (I say that a lot). I spend a lot of time accepting the guilt, changing the changeable things and trying to move on so it doesn’t destroy us. Is there some other way?

Laura is a "Work It" contributing writer. Read more about her.