I can't seem to shake my bad mood off this weekend. Usually I bounce from work to home and back, checking items of my to do lists, feeling productive and energetic. I remember to put make up on both of my eyes most mornings, and take pleasure in choosing something nice to wear. I'm productive, I work hard, and am pleasant and friendly to my coworkers. I care about the people who report to me, and try to support them and create a happy work environment. The children eat almost healthy meals almost every night, their clothes are clean if not ironed, they are healthy and are even quite well behaved most of the time. In the evenings after work I read to them, and get on the floor and do puzzles when often I would rather be flatlined on the couch hooked up to a wine IV.
I think of our life, indeed describe it to others as exhilarating, everything I have ever wanted. If pushed I'll admit to it being challenging, even rather tiring. Sometimes though another word keeps forming itself in my mind when I describe my life to myself. Relentless. It just keeps on coming; work, home, work, home; proving myself in the new job; keeping on top of email and experiments. Always busy at home: the never ending mounds of laundry, the hurriedly eaten meals, the constant picking up of tiny bits of plastic, the daily battles to brush someone's mass of curly hair. The sense that nothing is ever as well organized as I want it to be.
Even our weekend trips up to Tahoe can start to feel like a drag. A frenzy of packing to get up there, too late to bed after the long drive then woken too early by the kids; the lovely loft style of the home proving uncondusive to mummy or daddy sleeping in. Getting everyone out of the house to a ski resort the next morning is such an effort. Lunch to be packed, coloring books and toys too, hats, goggles and gloves, skis and poles, big and small, cash and cameras and phones. I've resorted to a check list on my phone to make sure everything gets there, which of course only works if I actually remember my phone. Kids need to be wrestled into ski gear, pinned down for the application of the aptly moniker-ed "sun scream" lotion, bustled into the car and our again. Then there are tickets to buy, gear to be schlepped across the parking lot, a table to be found in the heaving lodge....and then we have to get all of our belongings back home again afterwards too.
Despite all this effort Geekygirl is a reluctant skier. I confess that this is a great frustration to us since I dream of us being a family who loves to ski together. This and Geekyboy's complete disinclination to potty train are my great parenting woes at the moment. I am so tired of poopy diapers. I was so grumpy this weekend that I ended up getting cross with Geekygirl. She was whining about skiing, falling down on purpose if I didn't physically hold her up, and I yelled and told her that I didn't want to teach her if she wasn't even going to try.
Geekydaddy sent me away to blow of some steam on the slopes, and after a few runs by myself, a few deep breaths of calming mountain air and a couple of contemplative lift rides I gave myself a good kick in the pants. If the only things getting me down are that my son won't poo on the loo and my daughter isn't much of skier then I should be extremely grateful. My children are healthy. My husband is wonderful. My family wasn't wiped out by a tsunami and my drinking water isn't radioactive.
Still, its OK to get grumpy every now and again, surely, even if my life looks pretty enviable on paper?
Showing posts with label working motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label working motherhood. Show all posts
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Momma guilt
Just when I think I have my working mummy guilt under control, something happens that makes me realize that it is always there, just under the surface.
Last week I checked my calender for the week ahead, and noticed that a long scheduled dentist appointment for the kids now fell on a day that I was supposed to be in all day management training.
"I'll have to reschedule" was my first thought. This particular pediatric dental office, with its TV above the chair and big chest of toys to take home after a successful visit, is heavily used and very difficult to get an appointment with, too. Just before I picked up the phone I had an afterthought. Maybe Geekydaddy could take the kids. I checked and he could, but instead of feeling satisfied that I had successfully sorted out a scheduling conflict I felt conflicted. Guilty that I wasn't the one taking them to the dentist. Surprised that I had almost not even considered asking my husband to do it.
It is such an irrational feeling. When two parents work it makes sense for them to take turns with appointments and staying home when the kids are sick. Geekydaddy is perfectly amenable to sharing, the guilt is all internal. Where does it come from, this message that "good mummy's take their kids to the doctors/dentist/hairdresser"? I know that Geekydaddy, though he was quite happy to take the kids to their appointment, would have not have felt a whet of guilt had he been the one with a clashing work commitment.
As it happened the kids had a very successful visit to the dentist, but, like a knife twisting in the already deep stab of guilt, Geekygirl was found to have a small cavity.
At least my calender is clear next week, so I will be able to go with her for her first filling, and the fact that Geekydaddy took them to this first visit means that I do not look like a "slacker mum" at work for taking of two Tuesday mornings in a row.
Last week I checked my calender for the week ahead, and noticed that a long scheduled dentist appointment for the kids now fell on a day that I was supposed to be in all day management training.
"I'll have to reschedule" was my first thought. This particular pediatric dental office, with its TV above the chair and big chest of toys to take home after a successful visit, is heavily used and very difficult to get an appointment with, too. Just before I picked up the phone I had an afterthought. Maybe Geekydaddy could take the kids. I checked and he could, but instead of feeling satisfied that I had successfully sorted out a scheduling conflict I felt conflicted. Guilty that I wasn't the one taking them to the dentist. Surprised that I had almost not even considered asking my husband to do it.
It is such an irrational feeling. When two parents work it makes sense for them to take turns with appointments and staying home when the kids are sick. Geekydaddy is perfectly amenable to sharing, the guilt is all internal. Where does it come from, this message that "good mummy's take their kids to the doctors/dentist/hairdresser"? I know that Geekydaddy, though he was quite happy to take the kids to their appointment, would have not have felt a whet of guilt had he been the one with a clashing work commitment.
As it happened the kids had a very successful visit to the dentist, but, like a knife twisting in the already deep stab of guilt, Geekygirl was found to have a small cavity.
At least my calender is clear next week, so I will be able to go with her for her first filling, and the fact that Geekydaddy took them to this first visit means that I do not look like a "slacker mum" at work for taking of two Tuesday mornings in a row.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
All mothers should be executives....
....for one very simple reason. International business class travel. No one appreciates it like a mother does.
Most execs I know complain about having to fly for business, they groan about the jet lag, about the inconvenience of being away from the comforts of home and office, about airplane food, security lines and lack of space for carry on luggage.
Mothers see it differently. I should point out that I am not an executive, I'm a mere middle manager, but I had accumulated enough frequent flier miles to get myself upgraded to the business class cabin on the return flight during my last trip.
I stretched out in my little pod under a feather soft duvet. The noise cancellation headphones created a private world, which I filled with "The Kings Speech" on my personal LCD screen. I was served warm towels, hot food and crisp cold white wine. Perhaps just a little too much wine, which is what started my flight of fancy.
No one interrupted my reverie to ask me to guess what kind of animal they were pretending to be. Nobody needed me to untangle three precious home made necklaces that had engaged in an intricate bondage marriage at the bottom of the dress up box. Not one of the people around me suddenly erupted into hand to hand warfare, there was no one thumping anybody else while trying to take their toys. Even if there had been, it would not have been my responsibility to intervene. I wasn't staring at a pile of mail on the table that needed to be sorted, I wasn't feeling guilty about sitting down and relaxing when I could have been folding laundry. Disconnected from the internet I couldn't even check my to do lists or my twitter feed.
The only decision I needed to make over the next ten hours was was whether to read my novel before watching my movie, or to watch the movie first and then curl up with the book. I suppose I could have done some actual work, considering this was a business trip, but the generous wine pouring put pay to that idea.
The constant stream of mild anxiety that constantly churns in the middle of my mind, which prioritizes and reprioritizes the way I am utilizing every waking moment of my time, was silenced. It was slightly disorienting. There was no point in thinking "Should I be checking when the first gymnastics class of the session starts, writing minutes for the parent steering committee meeting, looking up the latest publications of a new scientific advisory board member on PubMed or checking our inventory of diapers, shampoo and medications while making my Target shopping list?"
I lay back in my pod, closed off from the world and all my worries. Maybe the airlines could offer a business class service just for mothers. We needn't actually go anywhere, even, just up and around for a few hours and back to where we took off from. Or maybe I should install one of these cosy little cabanas in my basement, and just hide in there every now and again.
This post wasn't sponsored by an airline, but if any of the major carriers want to offer me unlimited business class travel I will happily take it up!
Most execs I know complain about having to fly for business, they groan about the jet lag, about the inconvenience of being away from the comforts of home and office, about airplane food, security lines and lack of space for carry on luggage.
Mothers see it differently. I should point out that I am not an executive, I'm a mere middle manager, but I had accumulated enough frequent flier miles to get myself upgraded to the business class cabin on the return flight during my last trip.
I stretched out in my little pod under a feather soft duvet. The noise cancellation headphones created a private world, which I filled with "The Kings Speech" on my personal LCD screen. I was served warm towels, hot food and crisp cold white wine. Perhaps just a little too much wine, which is what started my flight of fancy.
No one interrupted my reverie to ask me to guess what kind of animal they were pretending to be. Nobody needed me to untangle three precious home made necklaces that had engaged in an intricate bondage marriage at the bottom of the dress up box. Not one of the people around me suddenly erupted into hand to hand warfare, there was no one thumping anybody else while trying to take their toys. Even if there had been, it would not have been my responsibility to intervene. I wasn't staring at a pile of mail on the table that needed to be sorted, I wasn't feeling guilty about sitting down and relaxing when I could have been folding laundry. Disconnected from the internet I couldn't even check my to do lists or my twitter feed.
The only decision I needed to make over the next ten hours was was whether to read my novel before watching my movie, or to watch the movie first and then curl up with the book. I suppose I could have done some actual work, considering this was a business trip, but the generous wine pouring put pay to that idea.
The constant stream of mild anxiety that constantly churns in the middle of my mind, which prioritizes and reprioritizes the way I am utilizing every waking moment of my time, was silenced. It was slightly disorienting. There was no point in thinking "Should I be checking when the first gymnastics class of the session starts, writing minutes for the parent steering committee meeting, looking up the latest publications of a new scientific advisory board member on PubMed or checking our inventory of diapers, shampoo and medications while making my Target shopping list?"
I lay back in my pod, closed off from the world and all my worries. Maybe the airlines could offer a business class service just for mothers. We needn't actually go anywhere, even, just up and around for a few hours and back to where we took off from. Or maybe I should install one of these cosy little cabanas in my basement, and just hide in there every now and again.
This post wasn't sponsored by an airline, but if any of the major carriers want to offer me unlimited business class travel I will happily take it up!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
undomestic goddess
Geekygirl was given a box of "hama beads" as a birthday gift. For those unfamiliar, as I was, these are little plastic cylindrical beads that you use to make a pattern on a shaped, spiked frame. They can then be melted together using an iron to make a two dimensional plastic ornament. They are Danish in origin and Geekdaddy recognized them instantly from his youth. He loved them.
They make a wonderful rainy day activity, and we have had a lot of those this winter and spring. Geekygirl pulled the box out a couple of weekends ago and busily removed all of the contents. She looked at the back of box then over to me, seeming worried "Mummy, we can't do it. We need to buy one of these". I inspected the contents and the instructions, ready to be annoyed that a critical component had not been supplied with the kit, but everything seemed to be there so I assured her that we had all that we needed; the beads, the frames, and the ironing paper.
"No, Mummy, but we need one of those irony things" she insisted, pointing at the picture of the iron.
Apparently, my daughter, in her five years of life, has never seen anyone in our house use an iron. This is actually not all that surprising because I have hardly ironed anything since she was born. When two people work full time and have two kids, something has got to give. For us it was ironing. We quit.
The first time Geekygirl saw a play iron in a pretend kitchen she had no idea what it was a facsimile of, but since then, thanks to books and television, she is at least aware that some people use a heated metal device to smooth wrinkles from clothing. In our house, instead of ironing we wear a lot of cotton jersey and have a healthy relationship with the dry cleaners.
I found our iron buried underneath a pile of wrinkled shirts in a plastic basket in the basement. The shirts were gap circa 1994. Items that I haven't worn since becoming a mother and had forgotten that I even owned. Fortunately the iron still functioned, so I was able to use it's hot smooth power to put the finishing touch to Geekygirl's carefully constructed masterpiece. I'm in no hurry to rebuild my relationship with the appliance, so that is probably all it will ever be used for from now on.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Leaving
It's time for my annual escape; ski conference time. This year the Keystone symposia for diabetes is actually in Keystone itself, a lovely resort in Colorado. I started writing this post from united flight 144, and am finishing it up in my cosy studio beside a frozen lake. I eagerly anticipate this meeting, not just for the science and the skiing but for the five days of respite from the emotional and physial demands of motherhood that it affords me.
There is no true respite of course. It isn't possible, or even desirable to recreate a pre-parenthood self simply by getting 5 days of adult company and a room of ones own. I feel adrift when I go away, torn between enjoying being able to please only myself and missing home. I admire the new children's play corner at the airport, remembering its location for future reference, I smile at other peoples little ones on the plane and I spend far too much time agonizing over the gifts I will buy for my children. What item will perfectly convey how much I missed all the intangible little things about them, can assuage my guilt over leaving? I buy too many things, return some, second guess myself and become a dithering idiot over a set of playmobil people or a magnetic game. The items do have significance though, geekygirl remembers still which item came back from each trip. I still remember some of the souvenirs my dad brought back from his conference trips long ago.
We talk a lot about how much we love our kids, but not as much about how much they love us. Sometimes it scares me how very important I am to them. That lovely quotation "To the world you might be one person, but to one person you are the world" carries a weight of responsibility. Whenever I get on a plane alone a tiny, unbearable thought nags me. "What if I don't come back?" Of course my rational side realizes that mothers can't wrap themselves in cotton wool and never leave the house for fear they die and leave their small children motherless, but I'm not the devil may care person I was before; there is a reason I'll be skiing with a helmet on.
Geekyboy at almost three really understands this time that I'm going away. Last night he wanted me to hold him, snuggled in his towel and sing "Old McDonald" in front of our picture of the song, something I used to do nightly when he was less of a hefty armful, but that we haven't done for ages. Six verses and still he wanted more. The tantrum when I put him down was less about the songs and more his way of telling me that he doesn't want me to go, I think. I sometimes try to guess what the kids are feeling and give them the words to describe it. I asked him if he was worried about Mummy's trip and the saddest little face in the world nodded emphatically and said "Mummy, don't go, don't go".
Geekygirl is a passionate child, almost operatic in her emotional swings. Lately she likes to hold my face close to hers, hold my gaze with her blazing green eyes and say "look at me for ever, only me, and don't ever look at anything else". She's used to my traveling now, and seemed to be coping with my impending departure wel, excited about the rituals of a sticker chart to track the days I'm gone, the TV dinner with its side of microwaved chocolate pudding, and the present I'll bring when I return. She knew that I would be leaving early this morning, my taxi was ordered for 5.45am. Usually a sound sleeper, she woke when I crept up. I think she was on alert, much as I, also a habitual deep sleeper, awoke a couple of times last night from fitful dreams of being lost in conference resorts and running into out of context friends, anxious that I not sleep through the alarm. I had a few minutes before the taxi arrived so we sat together and cuddled for a while. She burst into such howls of despair when I had to go, the last thing I heard as I clicked the door closed. Selfishly, I had been hoping to slip out unnoticed.
The kids have their new addiction to Mary Poppins (which will yield a good two hours of peace for my hero in parenting partnership, Geekydaddy), a week of planned meals and well stocked cupboards and closets full of clean and acceptable clothes. I'll be back on Monday. They will all be fine. Right?
There is no true respite of course. It isn't possible, or even desirable to recreate a pre-parenthood self simply by getting 5 days of adult company and a room of ones own. I feel adrift when I go away, torn between enjoying being able to please only myself and missing home. I admire the new children's play corner at the airport, remembering its location for future reference, I smile at other peoples little ones on the plane and I spend far too much time agonizing over the gifts I will buy for my children. What item will perfectly convey how much I missed all the intangible little things about them, can assuage my guilt over leaving? I buy too many things, return some, second guess myself and become a dithering idiot over a set of playmobil people or a magnetic game. The items do have significance though, geekygirl remembers still which item came back from each trip. I still remember some of the souvenirs my dad brought back from his conference trips long ago.
We talk a lot about how much we love our kids, but not as much about how much they love us. Sometimes it scares me how very important I am to them. That lovely quotation "To the world you might be one person, but to one person you are the world" carries a weight of responsibility. Whenever I get on a plane alone a tiny, unbearable thought nags me. "What if I don't come back?" Of course my rational side realizes that mothers can't wrap themselves in cotton wool and never leave the house for fear they die and leave their small children motherless, but I'm not the devil may care person I was before; there is a reason I'll be skiing with a helmet on.
Geekyboy at almost three really understands this time that I'm going away. Last night he wanted me to hold him, snuggled in his towel and sing "Old McDonald" in front of our picture of the song, something I used to do nightly when he was less of a hefty armful, but that we haven't done for ages. Six verses and still he wanted more. The tantrum when I put him down was less about the songs and more his way of telling me that he doesn't want me to go, I think. I sometimes try to guess what the kids are feeling and give them the words to describe it. I asked him if he was worried about Mummy's trip and the saddest little face in the world nodded emphatically and said "Mummy, don't go, don't go".
Geekygirl is a passionate child, almost operatic in her emotional swings. Lately she likes to hold my face close to hers, hold my gaze with her blazing green eyes and say "look at me for ever, only me, and don't ever look at anything else". She's used to my traveling now, and seemed to be coping with my impending departure wel, excited about the rituals of a sticker chart to track the days I'm gone, the TV dinner with its side of microwaved chocolate pudding, and the present I'll bring when I return. She knew that I would be leaving early this morning, my taxi was ordered for 5.45am. Usually a sound sleeper, she woke when I crept up. I think she was on alert, much as I, also a habitual deep sleeper, awoke a couple of times last night from fitful dreams of being lost in conference resorts and running into out of context friends, anxious that I not sleep through the alarm. I had a few minutes before the taxi arrived so we sat together and cuddled for a while. She burst into such howls of despair when I had to go, the last thing I heard as I clicked the door closed. Selfishly, I had been hoping to slip out unnoticed.
The kids have their new addiction to Mary Poppins (which will yield a good two hours of peace for my hero in parenting partnership, Geekydaddy), a week of planned meals and well stocked cupboards and closets full of clean and acceptable clothes. I'll be back on Monday. They will all be fine. Right?
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
life, squared
This is a post for the working mum blog carnival hosted by Holly at "its a mummy's life".
I had this post all thought out. I wanted to convey how I feel that being a working mum, a mother who also has a rewarding career, should be the aspiration of all women. But every evening I have been just too bloody knackered to actually write it. I'm not sure what that says about my ideal world for women. With Holly's deadline looming, I'm tapping this out while simultaneously watching 'Law and Order SVU'. That I find myself multitasking even in my extremely limited leisure time speaks for itself, I suppose.
People often say "My life became complete after I had my children". I have never felt that way. No offense to my amazing kids, but you see my life was quite complete before I had my children. The children brought a completely different dimension to it. One that I didn't even know existed before. Now I have a whole extra complete life, on top of the one I already had. I think of it as life, squared.
I'm a scientist. Science is a vocational type of career; a mindset and a way of being. It is how I have always defined myself, the first thing that comes to mind, before 'woman', 'Brit' 'liberal' or 'wife'. Now I define myself as a mother, too, of course, but I am ever grateful that I did not have to choose between these two identities. I can be both mother and scientist and straddle these two worlds. It may not be elegant but it works.
We working mums are lucky, I think, in that we never had to feel the disorientation that comes with leaving one life, that of the workplace, and moving over to the world of child raising and home making. Becoming a mother never left me wondering who I was. It has always been quite clear that I am the same person as I was before, living in the same world, just with so very much more to do. Since becoming a mother my brain has been challenged in more ways than I though possible. I'm not a rocket scientist kind of scientist, but I do have a job that stretches my neurons on a regular basis, and still I was not prepared for the mental gymnastics required of a working mum.
spare school clothes to wash, new papers about high cholesterol to read, preschool beach day to remember, holiday fundraisers, backordered reagents to track down, performance reviews to write, parent committee to attend, elementary school tours, conferences to book, brilliant scientific leaps of understanding to make, dentists appointments to book, forget and rebook, music classes to research, groceries to buy, sticker charts and prizes to create, assays to run, data to analyze, experimental strategies to plan, birthday parties to go to and to organize, nails to clip before they scratch another classmate and draw blood, nits to treat, powerpoint presentations to make, contract research oganizations to manage, field trips to attend, parent teacher meetings......
My mind is a maelstrom of information. I have a reasonable system of lists and files that ensures that I succeed in staying on top of about 80% of it, but I am always looking for that perfect system that will bring me to professional and personal perfection. I just hope that when I'm with the kids I'm giving them 100%. We do have a lot of fun together in our mornings, evenings and weekends, and we are lucky to have a wonderful preschool that I swear provides them more consistency, security and emotional and intellectual growth than I would be able to provide if I was with them full time. I've also been fortunate enough to participate in some pretty amazing scientific research in the five years since I became a mum, work that may end up really helping people. The last five years, my years of working motherhood, have stretched me further than I thought possible, but have also been incredibly rewarding, both personally and professionally.
I worry though, that I bring the stresses of work home. Geekyboy brought home a project from preschool, a 'feelings book' where they had scribbled on a picture of different feelings and the teachers had written a quote from them about each emotion. It had a page that said "Mummy feels happy for closing her eyes".
The life of a working mum is wonderful, varied and challenging. It is very busy. For me it can best be summed up best in words that are not my own. I paraphrase Jessica Piers (mother and lawyer) in the excellent "Mothers on the fast track" "To be successful at family and career you have to come to grips with the fact that you are not going be perfect at doing anything. I am not the best mother and I am not the best lawyer at my firm either, but my life is my whole life".
Despite the challenges, I would still counsel anyone unsure about whether working motherhood is the life for them to go for it. I can't imagine any other kind of life.
My life is my whole life.
I had this post all thought out. I wanted to convey how I feel that being a working mum, a mother who also has a rewarding career, should be the aspiration of all women. But every evening I have been just too bloody knackered to actually write it. I'm not sure what that says about my ideal world for women. With Holly's deadline looming, I'm tapping this out while simultaneously watching 'Law and Order SVU'. That I find myself multitasking even in my extremely limited leisure time speaks for itself, I suppose.
People often say "My life became complete after I had my children". I have never felt that way. No offense to my amazing kids, but you see my life was quite complete before I had my children. The children brought a completely different dimension to it. One that I didn't even know existed before. Now I have a whole extra complete life, on top of the one I already had. I think of it as life, squared.
I'm a scientist. Science is a vocational type of career; a mindset and a way of being. It is how I have always defined myself, the first thing that comes to mind, before 'woman', 'Brit' 'liberal' or 'wife'. Now I define myself as a mother, too, of course, but I am ever grateful that I did not have to choose between these two identities. I can be both mother and scientist and straddle these two worlds. It may not be elegant but it works.
We working mums are lucky, I think, in that we never had to feel the disorientation that comes with leaving one life, that of the workplace, and moving over to the world of child raising and home making. Becoming a mother never left me wondering who I was. It has always been quite clear that I am the same person as I was before, living in the same world, just with so very much more to do. Since becoming a mother my brain has been challenged in more ways than I though possible. I'm not a rocket scientist kind of scientist, but I do have a job that stretches my neurons on a regular basis, and still I was not prepared for the mental gymnastics required of a working mum.
spare school clothes to wash, new papers about high cholesterol to read, preschool beach day to remember, holiday fundraisers, backordered reagents to track down, performance reviews to write, parent committee to attend, elementary school tours, conferences to book, brilliant scientific leaps of understanding to make, dentists appointments to book, forget and rebook, music classes to research, groceries to buy, sticker charts and prizes to create, assays to run, data to analyze, experimental strategies to plan, birthday parties to go to and to organize, nails to clip before they scratch another classmate and draw blood, nits to treat, powerpoint presentations to make, contract research oganizations to manage, field trips to attend, parent teacher meetings......
My mind is a maelstrom of information. I have a reasonable system of lists and files that ensures that I succeed in staying on top of about 80% of it, but I am always looking for that perfect system that will bring me to professional and personal perfection. I just hope that when I'm with the kids I'm giving them 100%. We do have a lot of fun together in our mornings, evenings and weekends, and we are lucky to have a wonderful preschool that I swear provides them more consistency, security and emotional and intellectual growth than I would be able to provide if I was with them full time. I've also been fortunate enough to participate in some pretty amazing scientific research in the five years since I became a mum, work that may end up really helping people. The last five years, my years of working motherhood, have stretched me further than I thought possible, but have also been incredibly rewarding, both personally and professionally.
I worry though, that I bring the stresses of work home. Geekyboy brought home a project from preschool, a 'feelings book' where they had scribbled on a picture of different feelings and the teachers had written a quote from them about each emotion. It had a page that said "Mummy feels happy for closing her eyes".
The life of a working mum is wonderful, varied and challenging. It is very busy. For me it can best be summed up best in words that are not my own. I paraphrase Jessica Piers (mother and lawyer) in the excellent "Mothers on the fast track" "To be successful at family and career you have to come to grips with the fact that you are not going be perfect at doing anything. I am not the best mother and I am not the best lawyer at my firm either, but my life is my whole life".
Despite the challenges, I would still counsel anyone unsure about whether working motherhood is the life for them to go for it. I can't imagine any other kind of life.
My life is my whole life.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
night of the living hair
The saga of the cooties is not over.
On Thursday we got another call from the school. A nit was found. They are very strict at preschool, finding even a single nit means the child must be picked up and taken home right away. Now, one of the problems with science as a career for a working parent is that experiments are not the kind of work you can take home. They are time sensitive, and quite often they take several days. In this case I'd set up an assay the day before and needed to complete it. It would have been very difficult to take the day off. Fortunately Geekydaddy had no meetings, so he picked up the infested one and took her home.
Reluctant to do another chemical treatment, I decided to try the 'nit suffocation method' with Cetaphil, suggested by my doctor. Experiment complete, I got home early armed with bottles of the stuff. Its a facial cream cleanser, and you spread it through the hair and blow dry it on. It took about four hours to comb it through everyone's hair, but I have to say I can see how effective it is. The lotion loosens any nits and the creaminess makes it easy to comb them out. I found a total of 4 nits and what may have been one baby louse on my daughter, and one suspected nit on my son. The blow drying took forever. I let the kids watch TV with a lollipop to suck on, and turned the volume up really loud. I had a sudden flashback to when I shared a flat with a friend who set her hair in pretty curls every week, sitting for an hour or more under a salon style dryer with "Friends" turned up to ear blasting volume.
By the end of all the combing and blow drying I was wondering why I chose a husband who has shoulder length curly locks and was appreciating for the first time what hard physical work hairdressing must be.
We looked quite the sight when I was done. My daughter asked, "why is my hair big?", patting the dull bouffant it had become. I looked like Bonnie Tyler, if Bonnie Tyler had not showered for a couple of weeks. Bonnie goes to Burning Man, or Glastonbury, maybe.
We sent the kids to school the next day with the Cetaphil still in their hair. I was convinced that all that effort must have paid off.
I had just sat down at my desk when we got another call. A single dead nit found in Geekygirls hair. I should have washed and combed it again that morning, I suppose. For the first time I felt the preschool rules were overkill. There was no way there was a live bug on her hair. I kept my cool, because of course the preschool are just zealously trying to protect everyone else. Only Geekygirl and one other kid, the originator of the lice breakout, have been affected, which is good. Though it doesn't make me feel all that good to have one of the two lousy kids! The director said that if I could fax a letter from our doctor stating she was safe to be in school then she could stay for the day.
Ordinarily I would be quite happy to pick up the kids on a sunny Friday and just take the day off, but being in a new job, and having a lot more lab based work on my plate, I am worried about appearing unreliable. I reached out to the doctors office, who had recommended the Cetaphil in the first place and had and told me the kids would be OK to go back to school. The pediatrician took the time to call me back, and then faxed preschool the required letter. Such a relief to have a doctor sympathetic to a working mum.
We have hot washed all bedclothes, vacuumed the car seats and furniture, and will keep up with daily nit combing. I sincerely hope that we can get through next week without a call from the school.
On Thursday we got another call from the school. A nit was found. They are very strict at preschool, finding even a single nit means the child must be picked up and taken home right away. Now, one of the problems with science as a career for a working parent is that experiments are not the kind of work you can take home. They are time sensitive, and quite often they take several days. In this case I'd set up an assay the day before and needed to complete it. It would have been very difficult to take the day off. Fortunately Geekydaddy had no meetings, so he picked up the infested one and took her home.
Reluctant to do another chemical treatment, I decided to try the 'nit suffocation method' with Cetaphil, suggested by my doctor. Experiment complete, I got home early armed with bottles of the stuff. Its a facial cream cleanser, and you spread it through the hair and blow dry it on. It took about four hours to comb it through everyone's hair, but I have to say I can see how effective it is. The lotion loosens any nits and the creaminess makes it easy to comb them out. I found a total of 4 nits and what may have been one baby louse on my daughter, and one suspected nit on my son. The blow drying took forever. I let the kids watch TV with a lollipop to suck on, and turned the volume up really loud. I had a sudden flashback to when I shared a flat with a friend who set her hair in pretty curls every week, sitting for an hour or more under a salon style dryer with "Friends" turned up to ear blasting volume.
By the end of all the combing and blow drying I was wondering why I chose a husband who has shoulder length curly locks and was appreciating for the first time what hard physical work hairdressing must be.
We looked quite the sight when I was done. My daughter asked, "why is my hair big?", patting the dull bouffant it had become. I looked like Bonnie Tyler, if Bonnie Tyler had not showered for a couple of weeks. Bonnie goes to Burning Man, or Glastonbury, maybe.
We sent the kids to school the next day with the Cetaphil still in their hair. I was convinced that all that effort must have paid off.
I had just sat down at my desk when we got another call. A single dead nit found in Geekygirls hair. I should have washed and combed it again that morning, I suppose. For the first time I felt the preschool rules were overkill. There was no way there was a live bug on her hair. I kept my cool, because of course the preschool are just zealously trying to protect everyone else. Only Geekygirl and one other kid, the originator of the lice breakout, have been affected, which is good. Though it doesn't make me feel all that good to have one of the two lousy kids! The director said that if I could fax a letter from our doctor stating she was safe to be in school then she could stay for the day.
Ordinarily I would be quite happy to pick up the kids on a sunny Friday and just take the day off, but being in a new job, and having a lot more lab based work on my plate, I am worried about appearing unreliable. I reached out to the doctors office, who had recommended the Cetaphil in the first place and had and told me the kids would be OK to go back to school. The pediatrician took the time to call me back, and then faxed preschool the required letter. Such a relief to have a doctor sympathetic to a working mum.
We have hot washed all bedclothes, vacuumed the car seats and furniture, and will keep up with daily nit combing. I sincerely hope that we can get through next week without a call from the school.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Two worlds combined
The weekend was a great success. Most importantly the birthday boy had a wonderful time surrounded by his friends. The children had a good time too, and didn't break anything or hurt themselves. The weather was good, the house was perfect, the food excellent, the cocktails and wine plentiful and the poolside banter was wry and stimulating.
Yet I came home exhausted. Keeping track of the needs of two small kids in a strange house was wearing. What with snacks, naps, diapers, incessant demands for help with puzzles or playdough, sunscreen or armbands I felt that barely managed a sip of cocktail, a page of my book, a scrap of conversation without interruption. I felt a gulf between the life of a parent and that of the child free. Most of the guests were childless, either by choice or because they just haven't found the right time for a family yet. All of them were quite lovely with the kids, and did play with them and entertain them extensively, but still, it is mummy they come to when they need something and need it RIGHT NOW. Its only the parents who have to curtail the evening high jinks knowing that morning will come around way too early and way too loudly.
Geekydaddy feels this difference in lifestyle acutely, and though we didn't speak of it directly, I tacitly gave him the weekend "off" kid duty by agreeing to him playing bartender. Once he knew that the house had a poolside bar he procured his mixology supplies and spent a good part of each day muddling up delicious beverages. To his credit he did spend the rest of the time playing with the kids in the pool. I knew this division of labor would leave me as the one to make sure the children were not dehydrated, hungry, overtired, over-televisioned or burning in the sun.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
crazy hat day
The lovely daycare/preschool that the geekykids attend often has a "theme" day, usually on Fridays. Pajama day, backwards day, costume day, crazy hair day, beach day (where they can wear their swimsuits to school. Great for one kid, Rowan, who wears his swimming trunks most days anyway). Tomorrow is 'crazy hat day'.
I have about a fifty percent record of remembering that it is theme day. Oh, the shame of dropping of an unadorned child when almost all of the others have their hair exotically styled or their spiderman costumes on. My kids never seem all that bothered, to be honest, but I feel bad for them, so obviously the children of parents who don't care enough to put these special occasions on the calender. No one wants to feel left out, and I really don't want my children to be in that situation.
This being a full time daycare, almost all of the kids have two full time working parents, so I can't even pull the "I'm so busy working AND being a mum that I don't have time to remember this frivolousness" card. Everyone is busy. The parents are a pretty amazing bunch of people. I must accept that most parents are just better organized than I am. Mostly the mums, I suspect. Geekydaddy is a truly amazing partner and dad, but he doesn't seem to have the mental capacity for this type of minutiae. If you show me a dad who remembers that it is costume day at preschool, or equivalent I'll send you a prize. I, however am determined to improve my performance in this area.
I got a heads up this week thanks to facebook. A fellow mum posted pics of some beautifully adorned headwear that wouldn't have looked out of place on the catwalk, and though I seethed with envy at her millinery skill, I made a mental note to decorate hats this evening. I had another stroke of luck in that Geekydaddy's friend and co worker just gave us a bounty of old clothes and accessories from her daughter, which included several hats.
I breathed a sigh of relief that I would be able to get hats ready tonight, without having to make any shopping expeditions, then realized that though I had pom poms, glitter, fabric and other decorative items, I had no glue. With a stroke of brilliance I asked daycare to lend me a bottle of Elmer's, and this evening after dinner we had a lovely time selecting and decorating 'crazy hats' for tomorrow.
Pulling this off did cause my professional life to clang up against motherhood again. I don't know about you but despite iPhones and laptops, the only way I can be sure to actually remember something is to write it on the back of my hand. So after a great meeting with my new boss, where I believe I intelligently discussed strategy and science, she interrupted me to say "I'm sorry, but I have to ask, why do you have "hats" and "glue" written on your hand?"
Here are the results. Maybe I'll show my boss tomorrow!
I have about a fifty percent record of remembering that it is theme day. Oh, the shame of dropping of an unadorned child when almost all of the others have their hair exotically styled or their spiderman costumes on. My kids never seem all that bothered, to be honest, but I feel bad for them, so obviously the children of parents who don't care enough to put these special occasions on the calender. No one wants to feel left out, and I really don't want my children to be in that situation.
This being a full time daycare, almost all of the kids have two full time working parents, so I can't even pull the "I'm so busy working AND being a mum that I don't have time to remember this frivolousness" card. Everyone is busy. The parents are a pretty amazing bunch of people. I must accept that most parents are just better organized than I am. Mostly the mums, I suspect. Geekydaddy is a truly amazing partner and dad, but he doesn't seem to have the mental capacity for this type of minutiae. If you show me a dad who remembers that it is costume day at preschool, or equivalent I'll send you a prize. I, however am determined to improve my performance in this area.
I got a heads up this week thanks to facebook. A fellow mum posted pics of some beautifully adorned headwear that wouldn't have looked out of place on the catwalk, and though I seethed with envy at her millinery skill, I made a mental note to decorate hats this evening. I had another stroke of luck in that Geekydaddy's friend and co worker just gave us a bounty of old clothes and accessories from her daughter, which included several hats.
I breathed a sigh of relief that I would be able to get hats ready tonight, without having to make any shopping expeditions, then realized that though I had pom poms, glitter, fabric and other decorative items, I had no glue. With a stroke of brilliance I asked daycare to lend me a bottle of Elmer's, and this evening after dinner we had a lovely time selecting and decorating 'crazy hats' for tomorrow.
Pulling this off did cause my professional life to clang up against motherhood again. I don't know about you but despite iPhones and laptops, the only way I can be sure to actually remember something is to write it on the back of my hand. So after a great meeting with my new boss, where I believe I intelligently discussed strategy and science, she interrupted me to say "I'm sorry, but I have to ask, why do you have "hats" and "glue" written on your hand?"
Here are the results. Maybe I'll show my boss tomorrow!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
moving on out, moving on up?
Friday was my last day at the company I've worked at for the past eight years. I worked with wonderful people. I just got promoted. Maybe I'm crazy to leave, but an opportunity appeared that I realized I had to pursue. In a bit of a whirlwind I interviewed for and was offered a position at another company. A position at a bigger and more secure company, that gives me the opportunity to do new and very exciting research with a lot more resources at my disposal. A company located only ten minutes from my home and right next to the kids preschool. I try to volunteer at preschool regularly, but the distance from my work has made it hard. I'm torn in two at the moment. I'm so sad to leave the people I have spent every weekday of my life with for so many years. People who have supported me in my journey from a childless individual contributor in the workplace to a multi-tasking parent and group leader.
When I emptied my desk drawers I found the photos I had displayed when I first arrived. Of the cats and of my then boyfriend and I. The picture of the boyfriend (now Geekydaddy) was taken in the corner of our living room that now houses the kids colouring table, but in the picture the corner has our bar in it, laden with Bombay Saphhire Gin, Kettle Vodka and Makers Mark. I'm wearing leather trousers and have a platinum streak in my long hair. I remembered that I had the streak dyed back to brown and had my hair cut before the interview that utimately became this wonderful job. I sorted through a succession of photos that had once been displayed in my various offices. Pictures of our wedding, of the dog, of utrasounds, babies, toddlers and now a preschooler. Leafing through them, I realized that I grew up there.
Still, I'm excited to take a leap into something brand new. I think I have a lot more growing and learning to do, and this new gig might be just the place for it. I'm apprehensive though, about proving my worth and wondering where I will summon the energy to form new workplace relationships, and to impress and to do well in a new environment.
Making this move got me thinking about a statement I read recently: “among women earning $100,000 or more, 49 percent reached the age of 40 without having children, a number that is 15 percentage points higher than high-achieving men and possibly growing." It's from Lisa Belkin's recent article about Supreme court justice nomine Elena Kagan, and it is rolling around in my brain. I was quite staggered and surprised when I read it. It speaks so starkly to the different realities of male and female career tracks after children. I found myself wondering about those 49%. Did they decide not to have children, or did time just pass them by? Are they happily married and childless, happily single and childless? Did they actively choose to be part of this statistical anomaly, or did it become a default, as their career ascended, as attempts to have children failed, or they were unable to find a man who wanted a highly driven woman? What about all those working women with kids, over forty and making less than the magic three figure salary? Are they being underpaid compared to their male counterparts (yes, to the tune of 79c to the dollar according to the reports) and how did this happen?
Of course forty years old is rather an arbitrary cut off, I personally know many women who started their families after forty. Maybe there are a lot of women with kids making $95,000 a year and just not quite hitting that $100,000 target. There are likely to be a lot of different circumstances and choices represented by the observation. Still, that simple statement gave me much food for thought.
The career move I'm making comes with a pay rise. Judicious switching of employers tends to lead to this, it is widely thought that is ideal to move jobs every five to ten years to remain competitive, at least in my industry. The effort it took for me, as a working mum, to make this move made me wonder if lack of career mobility is one reason why women's pay lags behind men's. It would be interesting to study how long women with kids stay in their jobs compared to men, It is harder to leave a comfortable job when you have an understanding with your boss that you leave at 4.30 every day to collect your kids. It is very hard to interview while pregnant, or while pumping milk. Its tough to leave a place where you feel supported as a parent and so completely on an equal footing with the men in the company that you don't even think about it. Most high earning women also have a high earning spouse, so relocating for that amazing opportunity is more difficult for a woman with kids than it is for most men with kids, who often have a more mobile family.
When I told my colleagues that I had news, some of them expected me to announce my third pregnancy. I laughed, because nothing was further from my mind (though in retrospect I'm a little insulted, perhaps i should cut down on the chocolate). My career is my third baby, and now that my actual babies can chew their own food, drink milk from cups and sleep through the night, it is time to nurture it a little. I'm hoping that since the new position is so close to home and to preschool that I can get two for one, climb the career ladder while spending more time with my children.
Wish me luck!
When I emptied my desk drawers I found the photos I had displayed when I first arrived. Of the cats and of my then boyfriend and I. The picture of the boyfriend (now Geekydaddy) was taken in the corner of our living room that now houses the kids colouring table, but in the picture the corner has our bar in it, laden with Bombay Saphhire Gin, Kettle Vodka and Makers Mark. I'm wearing leather trousers and have a platinum streak in my long hair. I remembered that I had the streak dyed back to brown and had my hair cut before the interview that utimately became this wonderful job. I sorted through a succession of photos that had once been displayed in my various offices. Pictures of our wedding, of the dog, of utrasounds, babies, toddlers and now a preschooler. Leafing through them, I realized that I grew up there.
Still, I'm excited to take a leap into something brand new. I think I have a lot more growing and learning to do, and this new gig might be just the place for it. I'm apprehensive though, about proving my worth and wondering where I will summon the energy to form new workplace relationships, and to impress and to do well in a new environment.
Making this move got me thinking about a statement I read recently: “among women earning $100,000 or more, 49 percent reached the age of 40 without having children, a number that is 15 percentage points higher than high-achieving men and possibly growing." It's from Lisa Belkin's recent article about Supreme court justice nomine Elena Kagan, and it is rolling around in my brain. I was quite staggered and surprised when I read it. It speaks so starkly to the different realities of male and female career tracks after children. I found myself wondering about those 49%. Did they decide not to have children, or did time just pass them by? Are they happily married and childless, happily single and childless? Did they actively choose to be part of this statistical anomaly, or did it become a default, as their career ascended, as attempts to have children failed, or they were unable to find a man who wanted a highly driven woman? What about all those working women with kids, over forty and making less than the magic three figure salary? Are they being underpaid compared to their male counterparts (yes, to the tune of 79c to the dollar according to the reports) and how did this happen?
Of course forty years old is rather an arbitrary cut off, I personally know many women who started their families after forty. Maybe there are a lot of women with kids making $95,000 a year and just not quite hitting that $100,000 target. There are likely to be a lot of different circumstances and choices represented by the observation. Still, that simple statement gave me much food for thought.
The career move I'm making comes with a pay rise. Judicious switching of employers tends to lead to this, it is widely thought that is ideal to move jobs every five to ten years to remain competitive, at least in my industry. The effort it took for me, as a working mum, to make this move made me wonder if lack of career mobility is one reason why women's pay lags behind men's. It would be interesting to study how long women with kids stay in their jobs compared to men, It is harder to leave a comfortable job when you have an understanding with your boss that you leave at 4.30 every day to collect your kids. It is very hard to interview while pregnant, or while pumping milk. Its tough to leave a place where you feel supported as a parent and so completely on an equal footing with the men in the company that you don't even think about it. Most high earning women also have a high earning spouse, so relocating for that amazing opportunity is more difficult for a woman with kids than it is for most men with kids, who often have a more mobile family.
When I told my colleagues that I had news, some of them expected me to announce my third pregnancy. I laughed, because nothing was further from my mind (though in retrospect I'm a little insulted, perhaps i should cut down on the chocolate). My career is my third baby, and now that my actual babies can chew their own food, drink milk from cups and sleep through the night, it is time to nurture it a little. I'm hoping that since the new position is so close to home and to preschool that I can get two for one, climb the career ladder while spending more time with my children.
Wish me luck!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
proud and thankful
This is a post I have been mulling on since last week. Then I saw Josie's writing prompts and realized she had one that was just perfect for it.
She asked
5. Pick an emotion that best represents your state of mind right now and write creatively on that theme.
- Inspired by my musings on blogging and emotional authenticity last week.
Last week I got promoted. I'm delighted at the recognition, and inordinately pleased with the rather important title I now have. In the past four and a half years I have had two children, two maternity leaves (admittedly they were short American ones), and still, I been promoted twice in that time. I'm in a very different place professionally than I was four years years ago. I'm proud of myself. This isn't something I usually let myself feel. Most of the time I feel as if I could be doing better, and that at any given moment I should be using my time differently. When that promotion was announced, and I was congratulated by my coworkers, I decided to allow myself to bask a little. I might even say it again. Louder. I AM PROUD OF MYSELF!
Sometimes it seems there are so many negative messages out there about combining working with motherhood. "You will be overlooked, treated differently, respected less because you have children" these voices say. Many women hear these rumblings and wonder "is it worth the effort, going back to work. It feels so hard".
I by no means mean to deny the very real difficulties we women face, but I wanted to speak up, nonetheless. I want to point out that I became more effective at my job after I became a mother. I am more competent, responsible and focused. Perhaps because working is, on some level, a choice now. I am more mindful about how I use my time. I'm a better listener and a more thoughtful person. I suppose I finally grew up. I believe that I have grown more professionally over the last four years than I would have done had I not become a mother.
This pride in my seniority comes along with thankfulness. I'm thankful that my company noticed my performance. I have a fantastic boss, who sees ideas generated and work delivered, not the occasional day off or early departure for child related activities. I'm also thankful that the company took my recommendation to promote a talented young woman in my group, a woman who just came back from her maternity leave herself. It is great to work in an environment that treats parents well.
I'm grateful for our wonderful daycare. I could not be happy and productive at work if I wasn't completely satisfied that the children were happy. And I'm grateful to the kids themselves, they are fantastic, healthy kids who almost never need to stay home sick (now that I've mentioned this they will, no doubt, all come down with the lurgy in time for my important meeting next week, but they are unusually robust, and for that I'm grateful) Mainly though, I feel thankful for Geekydaddy, a man who fundementally believes that a woman and a man are equal when it comes to careers and home, and who shares in my career achievements, and supports me through the ups and downs. I often wonder how I got so lucky, and it was on my drive home from work, remembering our first dates, that I put my finger on it.
Back when I was a flighty young thing on the San Francisco scene I met lots of lovely men. I was usually dressed to impress, in a mixture of sale price designer clothes, vintage items, and a fair amount of exposed skin. I had my belly button pierced, and sported long blonde hair with a daring platinum streak. I attracted quite a bit of attention from the boys. Until they asked what I did. Men would fall over themselves backing away from the bar when they realized the cute blonde chick had a PhD in molecular biology. Or possibly I am completely paranoid and I just had spinach stuck in my teeth. It was surprising to me though, that in this day and age (well this was 1997) so many men were disinterested in a woman because she had more education then they did.
Then I met Geekydaddy. He loved the fact that I was a science geek, and thought that having a girfriend with a PhD was the coolest. In fact it was after I showed him my PhD thesis, a scenario analgous to "Would you like to come up and see my etchings?" that I first revealed a little more of myself to him!
More than ten years on, he is still proud of me, and that is even better than feeling proud of myself.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Guilt Trip.
Despite this still dreadful economy, my company is sending me to my favourite conference again this year to present some data. Thirty or so years ago, some genius decided that a great way to promote scientific interaction would be to hold meetings at ski resorts. The Keystone Symposia in Molecular and Cellular Biology hold several conferences every winter and spring in all of the North American ski Meccas including Keystone in Colorado, Snowbird in Utah, Lake Louise in Canada and Whistler in Vancouver. This year the symposium on Diabetes (my area of research) is at Whistler, the fantastically beautiful resort that just hosted the winter Olympics.
There are not all that many people in the world who devote themselves to the understanding and treatment of diabetes. I know quite a few of them, many from connections made at conferences like these. The meeting is a geeky science delight, everyone brings their best new research, and over dining, skiing, seminars, poster sessions, and late nights in the bar we learn, debate and share. It is wonderful for me as a scientist to join with members of my "tribe" from all over the globe. I will get to reconnect with old colleagues from my past, I have some exciting data to share myself, I will get to ski at one of the premiere resorts in the world, enjoy some nice restaurant meals and maybe even get a luxury spa treatment. I am very excited.
I'll be gone for 6 whole days, Monday though Saturday. Geekydaddy is no stranger to taking care of the kids, but a four year old and a two year old are hard work on ones own, and I consider him a superstar for taking on the challenge. He's going to have some help at least, my mum and dad arrive on Thursday to help out, and will stay on for a couple of weeks so we can all enjoy time together. I'm hoping the excitement of having the grandparents arrive will help alleviate the stress of mummy's absence. It will be easier on Geekydaddy than last year, when the kids were three and one and even more dependent than they are now, Geekyboy needing bottles and spoon feeding. This time I won't be lugging my breast pump along either, and I'm glad to be free from it. Time marches on, and when I look back from there to now I can feel the relative freedom of having slightly older children.
Even so, I feel horribly guilty about going.
I"m worried that the children will miss me too much, will be bereft without my hugs and kisses and songs. Will Geekydaddy and the Grandparents remember that when you sing "Old MacDonald' to Geekyboy after his bath, and he suggests "apple trees" as something he has on that farm, that the apple trees must go "Juggle Juggle"? -( I have no idea why they say juggle juggle!). I'm afraid that they will worry that I don't care about them, and will not understand why they can't come too. I"m worried that something will happen to one of them and I won't be there. I'm worried that something will happen to me. I never finished their baby books, so if they never see me again there is little physical evidence left of how much I love them.
I confessed my guilty feelings to Geekydaddy, and he, usually quite unflappable, got mad. "You are going to have a good time. What is the point of me taking care of everyone like this if you don't even have a good time?" He said.
I took his point and promised not to feel guilty.
I will of course, but I won't tell him. Shh.
I have strategies in place to help the kids cope while I"m gone, they have a little card to open each day containing a message from me and a sticker to put on a chart, counting down to the day I return. I will bring them a lovely present. Last night I asked Geekygirl if there was anything else we should plan. Sheepishly she asked me "can we have one of those special dinners?". I wasn't sure what she was talking about at first, but then remembered the last time I went on this trip, over a year ago, I had left a couple of 'ready meals' in the freezer. Horrible synthetic things, but one of them came with a side of warm chocolate pudding to which you added sprinkles. Geekygirl adored this meal. I'm stunned that she still remembers it. Maybe they put something incredibly addicting in them.
I enthused over her idea anyway, and have bought two of the offensive items, complete with the sprinkly pudding. I recognize that there is a certain irony in heading off to a conference about the prevention and treatment of diabetes while leaving my vulnurable children with such trash to eat, and I'm hoping that I'm not setting them up for a lifetime addiction to fatty sugary food as emotional solace.
Do you ever leave your kids? How do you and they cope?
There are not all that many people in the world who devote themselves to the understanding and treatment of diabetes. I know quite a few of them, many from connections made at conferences like these. The meeting is a geeky science delight, everyone brings their best new research, and over dining, skiing, seminars, poster sessions, and late nights in the bar we learn, debate and share. It is wonderful for me as a scientist to join with members of my "tribe" from all over the globe. I will get to reconnect with old colleagues from my past, I have some exciting data to share myself, I will get to ski at one of the premiere resorts in the world, enjoy some nice restaurant meals and maybe even get a luxury spa treatment. I am very excited.
I'll be gone for 6 whole days, Monday though Saturday. Geekydaddy is no stranger to taking care of the kids, but a four year old and a two year old are hard work on ones own, and I consider him a superstar for taking on the challenge. He's going to have some help at least, my mum and dad arrive on Thursday to help out, and will stay on for a couple of weeks so we can all enjoy time together. I'm hoping the excitement of having the grandparents arrive will help alleviate the stress of mummy's absence. It will be easier on Geekydaddy than last year, when the kids were three and one and even more dependent than they are now, Geekyboy needing bottles and spoon feeding. This time I won't be lugging my breast pump along either, and I'm glad to be free from it. Time marches on, and when I look back from there to now I can feel the relative freedom of having slightly older children.
Even so, I feel horribly guilty about going.
I"m worried that the children will miss me too much, will be bereft without my hugs and kisses and songs. Will Geekydaddy and the Grandparents remember that when you sing "Old MacDonald' to Geekyboy after his bath, and he suggests "apple trees" as something he has on that farm, that the apple trees must go "Juggle Juggle"? -( I have no idea why they say juggle juggle!). I'm afraid that they will worry that I don't care about them, and will not understand why they can't come too. I"m worried that something will happen to one of them and I won't be there. I'm worried that something will happen to me. I never finished their baby books, so if they never see me again there is little physical evidence left of how much I love them.
I confessed my guilty feelings to Geekydaddy, and he, usually quite unflappable, got mad. "You are going to have a good time. What is the point of me taking care of everyone like this if you don't even have a good time?" He said.
I took his point and promised not to feel guilty.
I will of course, but I won't tell him. Shh.
I have strategies in place to help the kids cope while I"m gone, they have a little card to open each day containing a message from me and a sticker to put on a chart, counting down to the day I return. I will bring them a lovely present. Last night I asked Geekygirl if there was anything else we should plan. Sheepishly she asked me "can we have one of those special dinners?". I wasn't sure what she was talking about at first, but then remembered the last time I went on this trip, over a year ago, I had left a couple of 'ready meals' in the freezer. Horrible synthetic things, but one of them came with a side of warm chocolate pudding to which you added sprinkles. Geekygirl adored this meal. I'm stunned that she still remembers it. Maybe they put something incredibly addicting in them.
I enthused over her idea anyway, and have bought two of the offensive items, complete with the sprinkly pudding. I recognize that there is a certain irony in heading off to a conference about the prevention and treatment of diabetes while leaving my vulnurable children with such trash to eat, and I'm hoping that I'm not setting them up for a lifetime addiction to fatty sugary food as emotional solace.
Do you ever leave your kids? How do you and they cope?
Monday, April 5, 2010
been there, seen that, bought the T shirt
I had a funny conversation with Geekygirl this evening. It began with her asking about breasts and the fact that I have them and she doesn't. (The fact that she was drawn to talk about mine this evening makes me wonder if the shirts I unearthed during yesterdays closet cleanout are a bit too booblicious)
"I will grow breasts when I'm older, to feed my babies" she told me. I agreed "yes, and they will probably start to grow when you are about twelve years old".
"Then I will be grown up and I'll go away and live in a different house" she told me.
"Well, maybe when you are eighteen years old you will go away to college" I replied.
"Oh, I"m not going to college, Mummy" she said "I'm going to a different world. A world that isn't Earth".
"Really? You are going to outer space instead of college" I queried, "That is a long way away". It might even be cheaper in 2024 too.
I'm response she said "Don't worry, Mummy, I will buy you a T shirt".
I'm off on a week long business trip next week, and have been prepping the kids, so maybe that is where these musings on separation came from. I do always buy Geekydaddy a T shirt when I travel, the least I can do to compensate him for holding down the fort.
Still, sci fi geek that I am, I'm holding out hope that kids of Geekygirl's generation will actually get to visit other planets, and I look forward to the day I can walk around emblazoned with the slogan "My daughter went to Alpha Centuri, and all I got was this lousy T shirt".
"I will grow breasts when I'm older, to feed my babies" she told me. I agreed "yes, and they will probably start to grow when you are about twelve years old".
"Then I will be grown up and I'll go away and live in a different house" she told me.
"Well, maybe when you are eighteen years old you will go away to college" I replied.
"Oh, I"m not going to college, Mummy" she said "I'm going to a different world. A world that isn't Earth".
"Really? You are going to outer space instead of college" I queried, "That is a long way away". It might even be cheaper in 2024 too.
I'm response she said "Don't worry, Mummy, I will buy you a T shirt".
I'm off on a week long business trip next week, and have been prepping the kids, so maybe that is where these musings on separation came from. I do always buy Geekydaddy a T shirt when I travel, the least I can do to compensate him for holding down the fort.
Still, sci fi geek that I am, I'm holding out hope that kids of Geekygirl's generation will actually get to visit other planets, and I look forward to the day I can walk around emblazoned with the slogan "My daughter went to Alpha Centuri, and all I got was this lousy T shirt".
Thursday, February 11, 2010
the book that saved my children's smile
or "How I stopped procrastinating and got my kids to the dentist".
Like many busy parents I have a constant, never ending, ever expanding 'to do list'. I make notes and lists, on paper and on electronic devices, but like a lot of us, I suspect, I spend my life with a constant fearful buzz in my ear "did you bring your drycleaning? remember show and tell?, make a dentist appointment, buy dog food, order diapers, put the trash out, pay the dog walker, are you right now supposed to be at a critical appointment that you forgot to note down....."
So when I glimpsed this book that Geekydaddy bought himself, and saw its subtitle "The art of stress free productivity" I was intrigued. From the world I was standing in "Stress free" and "productive" were completely contradictory. I am productive, but in order to be so it seems I have to also be stressed. Unstresssed would mean not having anything pressing to do, and given that that almost never happens, my default mood was stressed!
I'm not usually one for self help type of books. Or books about filing systems. But that is basically what this book is. It may have actually changed my life just a tiny bit. The premise of the book rests upon the concept that we all run around with our heads too full of stuff; minutae, apointments, ideas, half finished thoughts. We need to get everything out of our heads and into a system. Most of us start with a "to do list" but what we put on these lists tends to be amorphous, not easily turned into a specific next action, so things linger, in our minds and on our lists, stressing us out because we don't get them done. My dentist issue is a classic case.
I've had "Make dental appointment" kicking about in my head, and even on my to do lists for over a year. But since I hadn't identified a dentist and I I needed to verify my insurance would cover the one I chose the task never got done. After reading the book I implemented the system. I won't go into it all here but will say that Mr Allen advises you to keep four lists: "projects" for anything that takes more than one step, "someday maybe" for things you don't actually need to do anything about except keep track of, "Waiting for", things your waiting for someone else to deliver on, and "Action items", which must be an actual thing you can do. So with "Kids to dentist" on my project list, and "call friend A to get her kids dentists name" as the first task for that project on the action list, I initiated the process and lo and behold a month or so later the appointment day rolled around!
Now the system isn't flawless. I failed to consider the logistics of one parent taking both kids (aged almost 4 and almost 2) for a first dental visit. I confess that as a Mum who works during the week and who tends to do outings with Geekydaddy and the kids on the weekend, I am not all that adept at the art of handling both my kids in unfamiliar situations on my own. I do it sometimes, but feel barely in control of the situation, in fact I lost Geekygirl for five horrendous minutes at the aquarium once when I was responsible for the two of them. I'm very impressed when I see mums with two or more little ones in tow out grocery shopping or at the zoo, and realize that I'm not really all that good at this "Mum" thing!
Fortunately Geekydaddy was able to come along too, so we embarked upon 'family outing to the dentist'. I filled out their new patient forms, mailed to me in advance. There was a section about your childs personality and how you thought they might handle their dental exam. "Labels like "High strung, defiant, scared, shy" jumped out at me as I thought of Geekygirl, and I felt disloyal to my adorable, sweet, precious though often defiant, shy and high strung girl as I circled these words next to her name, then circled "Friendly" and "Average kid" next to Geekyboy's.
The next flaw in my plan was revealed as we arived at the office, having allowed the required thirty minutes circling time to find parking in San Francisco, ten minutes early for the appointment I had noted down as being at 10.00am. The appointment was, however, actually for 10.50, so we had to pull the kids out of the treasure trove of a waiting room; TV, toys, games galore, and head off to Starbucks for chocolate milk and cake (just what you need before the dentists!).
The actual visit went wonderfully. The nurse and the dentist were both fantastic with the kids, explaining carefully how they painted the teeth with dye to show the plaque, and using a picture chart menu for them to pick their toothpaste flavor for the cleaning. I was a little ashamed at how much dye stuck to their teeth, but there was no admonishment from the dentist or her nurse. We were chided for allowing both kids, especially almost four year old Geekygirl, to use pacifiers still. I'm embarrassed myself, but she loves it so, I haven't been able to take it from her. We're now steeling ourselves for the arrival of the pacifier fairy to take them away once and for all.
Geekyirl handled the whole thing incredibly well, she was polite and compliant and oh so proud of herself when it was done. I wished I hadn't checked so many of her less lovely traits on the form, as none of them were on display that day. Geekyboy was less sure of the teeth cleaning. But between tears and wails he kept saying "Yummy cookies!", so I guess he liked the cookie dough flavor toothpaste, if not the process of cleaning itself.
To top it off, the dentists had a tiny dog, a chihuahua/yorkie mix clad in a pink leopard print jacket and pink pony tail, that was just like an animated toy. I'm not usually a small dog person, but this one was adorable; gentle, soft and very friendly. I was almost converted and Geekygirl was completely smitten, and has now started badgering me for a tiny dog of her own. Our dog is too big, apparently, and doesn't like to wear accessories in her hair. We got a family picture with the dog, and then a dig through the treasure box for a present. I was surprised that instead of picking a princess crown or purse, Geekygirl picked a fierce looking snapping dinosaur-head-on-a-stick. I think after getting through this intimidating new experience she needed something fearsome to remind her of her bravery.
We'd better take it with us when we go to the Doctor's next week.
If you live in SF and need a pediatric dentist, I highly recommend Dr Bergen James and her practice.
Like many busy parents I have a constant, never ending, ever expanding 'to do list'. I make notes and lists, on paper and on electronic devices, but like a lot of us, I suspect, I spend my life with a constant fearful buzz in my ear "did you bring your drycleaning? remember show and tell?, make a dentist appointment, buy dog food, order diapers, put the trash out, pay the dog walker, are you right now supposed to be at a critical appointment that you forgot to note down....."
So when I glimpsed this book that Geekydaddy bought himself, and saw its subtitle "The art of stress free productivity" I was intrigued. From the world I was standing in "Stress free" and "productive" were completely contradictory. I am productive, but in order to be so it seems I have to also be stressed. Unstresssed would mean not having anything pressing to do, and given that that almost never happens, my default mood was stressed!
I'm not usually one for self help type of books. Or books about filing systems. But that is basically what this book is. It may have actually changed my life just a tiny bit. The premise of the book rests upon the concept that we all run around with our heads too full of stuff; minutae, apointments, ideas, half finished thoughts. We need to get everything out of our heads and into a system. Most of us start with a "to do list" but what we put on these lists tends to be amorphous, not easily turned into a specific next action, so things linger, in our minds and on our lists, stressing us out because we don't get them done. My dentist issue is a classic case.
I've had "Make dental appointment" kicking about in my head, and even on my to do lists for over a year. But since I hadn't identified a dentist and I I needed to verify my insurance would cover the one I chose the task never got done. After reading the book I implemented the system. I won't go into it all here but will say that Mr Allen advises you to keep four lists: "projects" for anything that takes more than one step, "someday maybe" for things you don't actually need to do anything about except keep track of, "Waiting for", things your waiting for someone else to deliver on, and "Action items", which must be an actual thing you can do. So with "Kids to dentist" on my project list, and "call friend A to get her kids dentists name" as the first task for that project on the action list, I initiated the process and lo and behold a month or so later the appointment day rolled around!
Now the system isn't flawless. I failed to consider the logistics of one parent taking both kids (aged almost 4 and almost 2) for a first dental visit. I confess that as a Mum who works during the week and who tends to do outings with Geekydaddy and the kids on the weekend, I am not all that adept at the art of handling both my kids in unfamiliar situations on my own. I do it sometimes, but feel barely in control of the situation, in fact I lost Geekygirl for five horrendous minutes at the aquarium once when I was responsible for the two of them. I'm very impressed when I see mums with two or more little ones in tow out grocery shopping or at the zoo, and realize that I'm not really all that good at this "Mum" thing!
Fortunately Geekydaddy was able to come along too, so we embarked upon 'family outing to the dentist'. I filled out their new patient forms, mailed to me in advance. There was a section about your childs personality and how you thought they might handle their dental exam. "Labels like "High strung, defiant, scared, shy" jumped out at me as I thought of Geekygirl, and I felt disloyal to my adorable, sweet, precious though often defiant, shy and high strung girl as I circled these words next to her name, then circled "Friendly" and "Average kid" next to Geekyboy's.
The next flaw in my plan was revealed as we arived at the office, having allowed the required thirty minutes circling time to find parking in San Francisco, ten minutes early for the appointment I had noted down as being at 10.00am. The appointment was, however, actually for 10.50, so we had to pull the kids out of the treasure trove of a waiting room; TV, toys, games galore, and head off to Starbucks for chocolate milk and cake (just what you need before the dentists!).
The actual visit went wonderfully. The nurse and the dentist were both fantastic with the kids, explaining carefully how they painted the teeth with dye to show the plaque, and using a picture chart menu for them to pick their toothpaste flavor for the cleaning. I was a little ashamed at how much dye stuck to their teeth, but there was no admonishment from the dentist or her nurse. We were chided for allowing both kids, especially almost four year old Geekygirl, to use pacifiers still. I'm embarrassed myself, but she loves it so, I haven't been able to take it from her. We're now steeling ourselves for the arrival of the pacifier fairy to take them away once and for all.
Geekyirl handled the whole thing incredibly well, she was polite and compliant and oh so proud of herself when it was done. I wished I hadn't checked so many of her less lovely traits on the form, as none of them were on display that day. Geekyboy was less sure of the teeth cleaning. But between tears and wails he kept saying "Yummy cookies!", so I guess he liked the cookie dough flavor toothpaste, if not the process of cleaning itself.
To top it off, the dentists had a tiny dog, a chihuahua/yorkie mix clad in a pink leopard print jacket and pink pony tail, that was just like an animated toy. I'm not usually a small dog person, but this one was adorable; gentle, soft and very friendly. I was almost converted and Geekygirl was completely smitten, and has now started badgering me for a tiny dog of her own. Our dog is too big, apparently, and doesn't like to wear accessories in her hair. We got a family picture with the dog, and then a dig through the treasure box for a present. I was surprised that instead of picking a princess crown or purse, Geekygirl picked a fierce looking snapping dinosaur-head-on-a-stick. I think after getting through this intimidating new experience she needed something fearsome to remind her of her bravery.
We'd better take it with us when we go to the Doctor's next week.
If you live in SF and need a pediatric dentist, I highly recommend Dr Bergen James and her practice.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
The selfish lazy princess.
Not a title I've ever seen for a childrens book, but maybe a good one for a mum confessional. You see I'm rather lazy and selfish by nature. In my pre kid life I was quite capable of letting dishes pile up in the sink for days (I was an awful roommate) and of failing to do my laundry for so many weeks that I would go shopping for clean clothes instead. I have pissed about on the internet all day when I was supposed to be working, letting others pick up the slack, and stayed in bed on many a lovely bright morning while the dog whined to be walked.
Motherhood is tough on the selfish and lazy. Children need clean clothes, fresh food, and their parents attention. There is no room for slacking off for a few days, lest the kids are reduced to wearing pyjamas to preschool or living off cookies. There is just no putting off something until later, when it is needed "right now". I can't justify messing around at work anymore. Those hours at the office need to be productive, since they are hours away from my family.
Yet my laziness still creeps up on me. I was inspired to write this post today, since, too lazy to make the effort to get him to the hairdressers, I cut Geekyboys hair myself and he now looks like a Romanian orphan. Its not just grooming that I have let slide. At almost four years old, Geekygirl has still never been to the dentist, despite this being on my to do list for 12 months now (I hate dentists myself, I'm also overdue a visit so perhaps this is a subconcious avoidance). I also failed to summon the energy to take the kids to stand in line at the flu shot clinic after picking them up from preschool on a Friday night, so they remain unvaccinated. The dog is overdue her shots too, and yet I have managed to find time to schedule myself a hair appointment (there is that old selfishness sneaking in). The kids teeth will fall out, but at least my hair will look great, it is all about priorities.
I've been dreaming of a different kind of life, a modern fairytale. One where we don't work at all, or maybe occasionally on fun, fulfilling, deadline free activities, or maybe I would just devote my time to voicing my self indulgent, half baked, poorly conceived thoughts on the internet. We would have full time childcare, in our giant mansion, in which of course we have a staff of housekeepers and groundskeepers to maintain its perfect yet understated elegance. I would get to be fun mummy, do the creative stuff, craft activities, outings the zoo, but if I was feeling selfish and wanted to stay in bed until 10.00am, then the staff would take over. They would also clean up the play dough, put away the paints, find the lids to all the marker pens, and all the puzzle pieces, a single one of each likely be in a different one of the multitude of rooms in the mansion. I would have a closet full of lovely clothes that appear as if by magic back on their hangers after I have worn them and discarded them in a heap on the floor.
We could take off for weekend trips to the wine country or to Paris without a second thought, either as a couple unencumbered, or with the nanny to help with the kids. I would work out only occasionally and erratically but yet still look fabulous and toned. I would have an in house masseur, and my own swimming pool and hot tub. I would have a huge kitchen, and a cook in case I didn't feel like cooking. I would be able to take long walks with the dog when I felt like it, or have someone else do it if I didn't. The dog would always be groomed and clean, and I would not be awoken in the middle of every third night by her clacking toenails and then lie awake thinking "must clip dogs nails tomorrow", and then promptly forget until the next time it happens. With such perfect balance in our lives, we would never get angry or tense, and the children would behave like angels all of the time.
I'm sure it would have its downsides, but right now, I'm struggling to think of them!
What's your fantasy?
Motherhood is tough on the selfish and lazy. Children need clean clothes, fresh food, and their parents attention. There is no room for slacking off for a few days, lest the kids are reduced to wearing pyjamas to preschool or living off cookies. There is just no putting off something until later, when it is needed "right now". I can't justify messing around at work anymore. Those hours at the office need to be productive, since they are hours away from my family.
Yet my laziness still creeps up on me. I was inspired to write this post today, since, too lazy to make the effort to get him to the hairdressers, I cut Geekyboys hair myself and he now looks like a Romanian orphan. Its not just grooming that I have let slide. At almost four years old, Geekygirl has still never been to the dentist, despite this being on my to do list for 12 months now (I hate dentists myself, I'm also overdue a visit so perhaps this is a subconcious avoidance). I also failed to summon the energy to take the kids to stand in line at the flu shot clinic after picking them up from preschool on a Friday night, so they remain unvaccinated. The dog is overdue her shots too, and yet I have managed to find time to schedule myself a hair appointment (there is that old selfishness sneaking in). The kids teeth will fall out, but at least my hair will look great, it is all about priorities.
I've been dreaming of a different kind of life, a modern fairytale. One where we don't work at all, or maybe occasionally on fun, fulfilling, deadline free activities, or maybe I would just devote my time to voicing my self indulgent, half baked, poorly conceived thoughts on the internet. We would have full time childcare, in our giant mansion, in which of course we have a staff of housekeepers and groundskeepers to maintain its perfect yet understated elegance. I would get to be fun mummy, do the creative stuff, craft activities, outings the zoo, but if I was feeling selfish and wanted to stay in bed until 10.00am, then the staff would take over. They would also clean up the play dough, put away the paints, find the lids to all the marker pens, and all the puzzle pieces, a single one of each likely be in a different one of the multitude of rooms in the mansion. I would have a closet full of lovely clothes that appear as if by magic back on their hangers after I have worn them and discarded them in a heap on the floor.
We could take off for weekend trips to the wine country or to Paris without a second thought, either as a couple unencumbered, or with the nanny to help with the kids. I would work out only occasionally and erratically but yet still look fabulous and toned. I would have an in house masseur, and my own swimming pool and hot tub. I would have a huge kitchen, and a cook in case I didn't feel like cooking. I would be able to take long walks with the dog when I felt like it, or have someone else do it if I didn't. The dog would always be groomed and clean, and I would not be awoken in the middle of every third night by her clacking toenails and then lie awake thinking "must clip dogs nails tomorrow", and then promptly forget until the next time it happens. With such perfect balance in our lives, we would never get angry or tense, and the children would behave like angels all of the time.
I'm sure it would have its downsides, but right now, I'm struggling to think of them!
What's your fantasy?
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Falls, faux pas, and strollers
We just returned from a lovely weekend outing to the Bay Area Discovery museum in Sausalito. As usual this picture perfect spot was filled with happy, polite, well educated, sylishly attired children and their camera laden parents. McClarens, Bugaboos and Phil and Ted strollers tidily stowed outside each of the play halls and outdoor play areas.
The kids played on the "Build the golden gate bridge" structure, the real golden gate bridge in view behind. This is a great activity, but I was wondering if perhaps to be more current, the musem should erect a "repair the bay bridge" one along side it. "Your challenge for today, kids, fix the bridge in time for the Monday morning commute using only duct tape and a plastic hammer, or face the wrath of 100,000 angry commuters".
These activities prompted us to have a discussion at lunch about careers. "What kind of job do you want when you grow up?" I asked Geekygirl. "I'm going to be a mummy" she replied. Without thinking at all I replied "being a mummy or a daddy isn't really a job, sweetie, you'll need another job too". Then I realized that what I had said might be offensive to the families around me. I'm sure there were plenty of full time parents in earshot. My response also revealed my own inner prejudice, that I hope and even assume that my daughter will aspire to a career as well as to motherhood. Now whether she takes a break from it to have a family, works full time like me, marries a man (or woman) who wants to take on the childcare role, or lets me to take care of the grandchildren while she saves the world, that is entirely up to her, of course, but I fully expect her to get a degree or two and find her niche in the world of paid employement before doing so. The expectations we have for our poor kids. We try to be neutral, but I think we all have them under the surface, ready to pop up in response to an innocent statement, like mine did today.
Geekygirl followed up by telling me that she was going to have five kids. No one could argue that that isn't a full time job, so I changed the subject and we went to the woodland creature play area instead, where the kids aspired to be racoons.
The plethora of McClarens being strolled around the place reminded me of the recent recall brou ha ha. We too were pushing a McClaren, our double buggy, still with the original, uncovered, fingertip severing hinges. I didn't notice any safety covers on anyone else's strollers, so clearly most other parents are not taking the advice of McClaren to "Stop using the strollers immediately". It all seemed rather daft to me, especially once I heard that in the UK, the strollers were not recalled. Maybe British people are more inclined to consider anything with a moving part potentially dangerous, and any accident involving fingers and hinges. well just that, an unfortunate accident. My father still has a scar on his fingertip from where a little girl closed it in a garden gate when he was about five years old. (Her name was Elizabeth, I recall, the story became somewhat of a family legend). The point being that I doubt that there have been mass recalls on garden gates, but I'm sure there have been plenty of fingers trapped in them over the decades
Accidents happen. Sure, manufacturers can and should constantly improve their products, but can we really protect out children from every scratch or bruise? I wish that I could. Just last weekend Geekygirl was running, as she is wont to do, full tilt down our very steep street. And then suddenly she wasn't. She was face down on the concrete. She got up and ran to me, howling. I inspected her from the feet up; knees, unscathed, hands, also looked fine. Then I looked at her face and gasped, a huge egg was rising on her forehead topped with a bloody road rash. She had tumbled so suddenly that she didn't even get her hands out in time. An ice pack and some neosporin later, she was, and is completely fine, but it was a scary moment. These hills are dangerous. Maybe I should write to the city and ask for a "recall" on its steeper streets? maybe they could come by with a grader and flatten it down a little? Or perhaps all San Francisco parents should be issued with crash helmets for their offspring?
Or maybe the only way to learn how fast you can run down a hill is to try, fail and fall.
The kids played on the "Build the golden gate bridge" structure, the real golden gate bridge in view behind. This is a great activity, but I was wondering if perhaps to be more current, the musem should erect a "repair the bay bridge" one along side it. "Your challenge for today, kids, fix the bridge in time for the Monday morning commute using only duct tape and a plastic hammer, or face the wrath of 100,000 angry commuters".
These activities prompted us to have a discussion at lunch about careers. "What kind of job do you want when you grow up?" I asked Geekygirl. "I'm going to be a mummy" she replied. Without thinking at all I replied "being a mummy or a daddy isn't really a job, sweetie, you'll need another job too". Then I realized that what I had said might be offensive to the families around me. I'm sure there were plenty of full time parents in earshot. My response also revealed my own inner prejudice, that I hope and even assume that my daughter will aspire to a career as well as to motherhood. Now whether she takes a break from it to have a family, works full time like me, marries a man (or woman) who wants to take on the childcare role, or lets me to take care of the grandchildren while she saves the world, that is entirely up to her, of course, but I fully expect her to get a degree or two and find her niche in the world of paid employement before doing so. The expectations we have for our poor kids. We try to be neutral, but I think we all have them under the surface, ready to pop up in response to an innocent statement, like mine did today.
Geekygirl followed up by telling me that she was going to have five kids. No one could argue that that isn't a full time job, so I changed the subject and we went to the woodland creature play area instead, where the kids aspired to be racoons.
The plethora of McClarens being strolled around the place reminded me of the recent recall brou ha ha. We too were pushing a McClaren, our double buggy, still with the original, uncovered, fingertip severing hinges. I didn't notice any safety covers on anyone else's strollers, so clearly most other parents are not taking the advice of McClaren to "Stop using the strollers immediately". It all seemed rather daft to me, especially once I heard that in the UK, the strollers were not recalled. Maybe British people are more inclined to consider anything with a moving part potentially dangerous, and any accident involving fingers and hinges. well just that, an unfortunate accident. My father still has a scar on his fingertip from where a little girl closed it in a garden gate when he was about five years old. (Her name was Elizabeth, I recall, the story became somewhat of a family legend). The point being that I doubt that there have been mass recalls on garden gates, but I'm sure there have been plenty of fingers trapped in them over the decades
Accidents happen. Sure, manufacturers can and should constantly improve their products, but can we really protect out children from every scratch or bruise? I wish that I could. Just last weekend Geekygirl was running, as she is wont to do, full tilt down our very steep street. And then suddenly she wasn't. She was face down on the concrete. She got up and ran to me, howling. I inspected her from the feet up; knees, unscathed, hands, also looked fine. Then I looked at her face and gasped, a huge egg was rising on her forehead topped with a bloody road rash. She had tumbled so suddenly that she didn't even get her hands out in time. An ice pack and some neosporin later, she was, and is completely fine, but it was a scary moment. These hills are dangerous. Maybe I should write to the city and ask for a "recall" on its steeper streets? maybe they could come by with a grader and flatten it down a little? Or perhaps all San Francisco parents should be issued with crash helmets for their offspring?
Or maybe the only way to learn how fast you can run down a hill is to try, fail and fall.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
the morning routine
In the the fabulous story of "the day the goose got loose" the narrator tells us "When the goose got loose, my dad was annoyed. He said it wasn't a day he enjoyed. His morning routine was completely destroyed, the day the goose got loose"
One of the toughest challenges of the working parent (at least for those of us with a traditional 9-5 type of gig) is the morning routine. Even if you don't have a goose. Unless you are wealthy enough to have a live in nanny, or lucky enough to have your mum come and take care of your kids every day, every morning is a marathon of breakfast making, lunchbox packing, hair brushing, child dressing, show and tell, or check for soccer club, or payment for school photo remembering, and leaving a dried cows ear (or worse) for the dog walker - to give the dog to prevent her chewing on the furniture while we are out).
They say that working mothers of young children (and no doubt fathers too if they do it right) are great multitaskers, I would hypothesize that it is the ability to get everyone out of the house every day that hones these skills. I know that if we have a good morning, I'm flying for the rest of the day. Any couple who can get two kids dressed in clean attractive clothing, each with a healthy lunch, out of the house smiling and cheerful, are ready to tackle anything the day can throw at them.
Of course the alternative, someone who spends a precious half hour persuading a three year old that she can't wear her ballet leotard to school, pours sour milk on everyone's cereal after accidentally opening the fridge door slap bang into the toddler's head thus starting a twenty minute conniption fit, then straps two howling kids into their car seats while the neighbours look on sympathetically, and then realizes half way to the office that she has left her laptop at home (or possibly on the sidewalk next to where the car was parked), and has also forgotten to put on deodorant, is ready to crawl into a nice dark cave before the day has even begun.
This morning was a good one. We tend to take the good for granted, but I am determined to notice our successes, since the fulcrum on which good and bad mornings are balanced is a very sensitive one. You see, one of our great morning routine destroyers is the ritual of putting on socks and shoes. Geekygirl is very particular about her socks. She hates the seams to rub against her feet so wears her socks inside out. This would be fine, if several of her socks did not have those rubberized anti slip letters on the bottom. These cannot be worn inside out, and are not acceptable. Some socks without letters are still unacceptable. I have bought several batches of letter free socks, but have yet to figure out exactly how she decides which socks meet her exacting standards. So she has to try on at least three pairs of socks before selecting one. Now I do my best to keep up with laundry, but matching all the pairs of teeny socks in the house is beyond even my organizational skills, and being asked to find the pair to a single acceptable sock (seam free toes, from Nordstrom, I should have bought the store out of these) when there is a whole drawer full of socks that are to my eye perfectly OK, drives me batty.
This morning Geekygirl decided to wear tights. She never wears tights, I have a drawer full of unworn brand new pairs, but one of her classmates always wears them, and today Geekygirl wanted to be "like Audrey". She pulled on one pair of tights. Tights can be tricky for the uninitiated, but I was firmly told not to help. After she struggled we established that the chosen pair of tights was rather small, so she agreed, without even the hint of a tantrum, to try another pair. These worked out better, though she was fiddling with the wrinkles in them all morning. Still, she looked sweet in the tights and a pink dress, she cheerfully munched two bowls of cereal, played nicely with her brother as we got everything ready to go, and sat down to put her shoes on without even being asked. Then I noticed her pulling at the toes of the tights. Shit, I thought to myself. The toe seams are on the insides. She is about to pull those tights of and try to turn them inside out, which will result in a major breakdown, complete removal of all her clothes, and a twenty minute tantrum where she refuses to wear anything else but her ballet outfit.
I needed a distraction, and quick. "Which kid, with shoes on, wants to give the dog her first cookie? I called. Geekybaby was hot tailing it to the cookie distribution post, his shoes having been applied to his feet earlier, and this spurred Geekygirl's competitive edge. Her brother is rarely allowed to do anything first. She strapped up her shoes (thank goodness for velcro, if kids still had to lace or buckle their own shoes I think I would have thrown in the towel long ago), ran over and got the cookie. "Lets get out of here before she remembers that her tights are uncomfortable" I mouthed to Geekydaddy, and we set off down the stairs, chattering and giggling and the very picture of a happy successful family.
Disaster averted. Tomorrow is another day!
One of the toughest challenges of the working parent (at least for those of us with a traditional 9-5 type of gig) is the morning routine. Even if you don't have a goose. Unless you are wealthy enough to have a live in nanny, or lucky enough to have your mum come and take care of your kids every day, every morning is a marathon of breakfast making, lunchbox packing, hair brushing, child dressing, show and tell, or check for soccer club, or payment for school photo remembering, and leaving a dried cows ear (or worse) for the dog walker - to give the dog to prevent her chewing on the furniture while we are out).
They say that working mothers of young children (and no doubt fathers too if they do it right) are great multitaskers, I would hypothesize that it is the ability to get everyone out of the house every day that hones these skills. I know that if we have a good morning, I'm flying for the rest of the day. Any couple who can get two kids dressed in clean attractive clothing, each with a healthy lunch, out of the house smiling and cheerful, are ready to tackle anything the day can throw at them.
Of course the alternative, someone who spends a precious half hour persuading a three year old that she can't wear her ballet leotard to school, pours sour milk on everyone's cereal after accidentally opening the fridge door slap bang into the toddler's head thus starting a twenty minute conniption fit, then straps two howling kids into their car seats while the neighbours look on sympathetically, and then realizes half way to the office that she has left her laptop at home (or possibly on the sidewalk next to where the car was parked), and has also forgotten to put on deodorant, is ready to crawl into a nice dark cave before the day has even begun.
This morning was a good one. We tend to take the good for granted, but I am determined to notice our successes, since the fulcrum on which good and bad mornings are balanced is a very sensitive one. You see, one of our great morning routine destroyers is the ritual of putting on socks and shoes. Geekygirl is very particular about her socks. She hates the seams to rub against her feet so wears her socks inside out. This would be fine, if several of her socks did not have those rubberized anti slip letters on the bottom. These cannot be worn inside out, and are not acceptable. Some socks without letters are still unacceptable. I have bought several batches of letter free socks, but have yet to figure out exactly how she decides which socks meet her exacting standards. So she has to try on at least three pairs of socks before selecting one. Now I do my best to keep up with laundry, but matching all the pairs of teeny socks in the house is beyond even my organizational skills, and being asked to find the pair to a single acceptable sock (seam free toes, from Nordstrom, I should have bought the store out of these) when there is a whole drawer full of socks that are to my eye perfectly OK, drives me batty.
This morning Geekygirl decided to wear tights. She never wears tights, I have a drawer full of unworn brand new pairs, but one of her classmates always wears them, and today Geekygirl wanted to be "like Audrey". She pulled on one pair of tights. Tights can be tricky for the uninitiated, but I was firmly told not to help. After she struggled we established that the chosen pair of tights was rather small, so she agreed, without even the hint of a tantrum, to try another pair. These worked out better, though she was fiddling with the wrinkles in them all morning. Still, she looked sweet in the tights and a pink dress, she cheerfully munched two bowls of cereal, played nicely with her brother as we got everything ready to go, and sat down to put her shoes on without even being asked. Then I noticed her pulling at the toes of the tights. Shit, I thought to myself. The toe seams are on the insides. She is about to pull those tights of and try to turn them inside out, which will result in a major breakdown, complete removal of all her clothes, and a twenty minute tantrum where she refuses to wear anything else but her ballet outfit.
I needed a distraction, and quick. "Which kid, with shoes on, wants to give the dog her first cookie? I called. Geekybaby was hot tailing it to the cookie distribution post, his shoes having been applied to his feet earlier, and this spurred Geekygirl's competitive edge. Her brother is rarely allowed to do anything first. She strapped up her shoes (thank goodness for velcro, if kids still had to lace or buckle their own shoes I think I would have thrown in the towel long ago), ran over and got the cookie. "Lets get out of here before she remembers that her tights are uncomfortable" I mouthed to Geekydaddy, and we set off down the stairs, chattering and giggling and the very picture of a happy successful family.
Disaster averted. Tomorrow is another day!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Defiance
We had a challenging week. One small child shouldn't be able to cast such a pall on a household, but these past few days Geekygirl has had us vacillating between fuming with anger and falling into self doubting despair. Though I feel badly about highlighting Geekygirl's difficult behaviour back to back with swooning over Geekyboy's adorableness just a couple of posts ago, such is life with an eighteen month old and a three and half hear old. Geekygirl has her many, many moments of adorableness too, of course, but recently we have noticed her behaviour slipping, probably because our standards have slipped too. Exacerbated by a recent nasty cough and cold, and the associated indulgences of staying home and watching TV, and eating breakfast on Mummy's lap, a tiny demon seems to have possessed our oldest child.
Things came to a head this week, when, tired of our morning routine being disrupted by the new breakfast on lap habit, which leads to milk and cereal on my pants, a delay in getting out of the door since I am effectively disabled until she has finished eating three bowls of cereal, and to teeth marks on my knees from Geekyboys protest at his sisters preferential treatment, I finally vetoed "lap breakfast".
Geekygirl is not at her best in the mornings anyway, and this cruelty caused an unbelievable howling and caterwalling, thrown breakfast, a scratched brother, and a tirade of the worst three year old expletives, of which her father bore the brunt (poo poo head being a favourite, unfortunately echoed with great clarity now by her brother at inopportune moments).
Discipline in our house for large trangressions is the "naughty chair" for time out, or the forfeit of a favourite toy. I'm not a big fan of time out though, since I'm not convinced, philosophically , of its value, especially to kids who don't get enough of their mothers time in the first place. Quiet is required on the naughty chair, but when a category four tantrum has ensued, it can take ten minutes to get to quietness for the three minute time out, and time is precious in the mornings, so I tend to avoid using it in time sensitive situations. She has rather too many nice toys for the forfeit to be particularly effective, so I'm searching for an additional strategy.
This particular morning we decided that following through with discipline was more important than being late for work, and she eventually managed her time out, then had to return to finish the thrown breakfast, was still not dressed at way past leaving time and was then unable to choose an outfit, so I bundled her, screaming into the nearest dress, pushed on her shoes and carried her, wailing, down the stairs to be deposited in the car seat in Geekydaddy's car. Of course this was a morning that our neighbour was leaving at the same time, so I gave a wry smile in response to his "tough morning" and got in my own car leaving Geekydaddy to deal with the rest of the day's routine. Our neighbours have a boy the same age as Geekybaby, and have just announced the expectation of his sibling, so at least the noises from our house have not deterred them from further adventures in parenthood!
This week the tiniest things have led to breakdown point. A dress put on backwards? Try to help, I get railed at with tiny pounding fists, don't help and I have a naked child who won't get dressed. Answer "no" to letting her wear her ballet shoes to school? Tell she needs to get in her bath now, or in ten minutes, or that she must not drink her milk with her spoon? All hell breaks loose. We do give the kids lots of simple choices when we can, with the intention that sometimes they will then just do as they are asked, but this week that was apparently an impossibilty. Black is white and up is down in Geekygirl's world. I offer cuddles, she pushes me away, I leave and she wails for me to return. I know that this is the crux of growing up, separating from your parents, but also wanting them close, but when in the fray I find my resolve and confidence wavering. I'm beginning to understand Geekydaddy's warnings that he was kicked out of preschool for behavioural isuses, and any offspring of his would likely be difficult to raise.
I worry that with working parents the children don't get enough of us, (though I have heard rumor that parents who stay home do also have challenging times.) I feel guilty that I just want to come home to pleasant sweet, compliant kids who say please and thankyou, and always do as they are asked without challenging every word, (anyone know where they sell kids like this?!). The preschool teachers, saints in human form, are unphased by her behaviour and navigate the storms with quiet skill, reassuring us that this is part of growing up, and is quite usual behaviour for ids at this age. I'm just hoping that eventually this strong mindedness will pay off, when she refuses to get into cars with drunk drivers as a teen, founds a green energy company and solves global warming before her 25th birthday or doggedly uncovers a new law of nature against all prevailing opinions and wins a Nobel prize.
I'm a big reader of parenting books (my favourites are "hold onto your kids", "How to talk so kids will listen" and "the secret of happy children"), and have my own hodge podge parenting philospophy of helping my kids become self determining by giving them choices, giving specific feedback rather than vague praise, using sticker reward charts, and setting rules and being consistent. Something I reminded myself of this week was that kids do need to push against the boundaries and it is our job to keep the boundaries there. That noise and tantrums are going to happen if the boundaries are to hold. I don't like tantrums and conflict, and go to great lengths to ensure my kids are preemptively snacked before outings, and that they get their naps and enough sleep. I feel as if I'm failing somehow when faced with tears and resistance, when perhaps actually, thinking with a cooler head, I am actually succeeding. I reminded myself this week that kids don't actually want the rules to change, even though they want in that moment to have cookies for dinner and wear their princess costumes to school.
A case study from my own experience is that I had got into the habit of letting geekygirl watch "you tube" disney songs on my computer most evenings, against my own preference for limited TV watching, "giving in" depending on my level of tiredness and the persistence of her whining. Concerned about so much screen time, I was then was constantly battling with her to get it turned off. I made a new rule, videos only on Tuesday (geekydaddy's yoga night so I need the help) and Friday, since Fridays are for fun, and this bone of contention is now under control. Whining gets her nowhere, the rule holds fast, and she is getting pretty knowledgable about the days of the week. And the words to Bibbety bobbedy boo.
I recently read and enjoyed "the philosophical baby" by Allison Gopnick" which has an interesting chapter about young children and rules, suggesting that we are somehow adapted as a species for rule following, and that children understand rules from a very young age. They also soon understand that some rules are arbitrary and can be negotiated (rules like "videos only on Tuesday") and that some rules have a deeper truth and cannot be changed (rules like "you should not hurt other people").
In an effort to brush up our parenting skills and give us confidence to stick to our plans, and hopefully learn a few new tricks and ideas, Geekydaddy and I are going to attend a parenting seminar on "dealing with opposition and defiance" at a local child psychology center
I have attended far more classes on dog training than I have on parenting, and if the children can be brought up to the same standard of behavior of the dog; cheery affection with occasional selective deafness and opportunistic food stealing, I'll be thrilled.
How about you? Does your three year old overwhelm the mood of the family with the force of his or her emotions? what do you do? Help, support, and advice much appreciated!
Things came to a head this week, when, tired of our morning routine being disrupted by the new breakfast on lap habit, which leads to milk and cereal on my pants, a delay in getting out of the door since I am effectively disabled until she has finished eating three bowls of cereal, and to teeth marks on my knees from Geekyboys protest at his sisters preferential treatment, I finally vetoed "lap breakfast".
Geekygirl is not at her best in the mornings anyway, and this cruelty caused an unbelievable howling and caterwalling, thrown breakfast, a scratched brother, and a tirade of the worst three year old expletives, of which her father bore the brunt (poo poo head being a favourite, unfortunately echoed with great clarity now by her brother at inopportune moments).
Discipline in our house for large trangressions is the "naughty chair" for time out, or the forfeit of a favourite toy. I'm not a big fan of time out though, since I'm not convinced, philosophically , of its value, especially to kids who don't get enough of their mothers time in the first place. Quiet is required on the naughty chair, but when a category four tantrum has ensued, it can take ten minutes to get to quietness for the three minute time out, and time is precious in the mornings, so I tend to avoid using it in time sensitive situations. She has rather too many nice toys for the forfeit to be particularly effective, so I'm searching for an additional strategy.
This particular morning we decided that following through with discipline was more important than being late for work, and she eventually managed her time out, then had to return to finish the thrown breakfast, was still not dressed at way past leaving time and was then unable to choose an outfit, so I bundled her, screaming into the nearest dress, pushed on her shoes and carried her, wailing, down the stairs to be deposited in the car seat in Geekydaddy's car. Of course this was a morning that our neighbour was leaving at the same time, so I gave a wry smile in response to his "tough morning" and got in my own car leaving Geekydaddy to deal with the rest of the day's routine. Our neighbours have a boy the same age as Geekybaby, and have just announced the expectation of his sibling, so at least the noises from our house have not deterred them from further adventures in parenthood!
This week the tiniest things have led to breakdown point. A dress put on backwards? Try to help, I get railed at with tiny pounding fists, don't help and I have a naked child who won't get dressed. Answer "no" to letting her wear her ballet shoes to school? Tell she needs to get in her bath now, or in ten minutes, or that she must not drink her milk with her spoon? All hell breaks loose. We do give the kids lots of simple choices when we can, with the intention that sometimes they will then just do as they are asked, but this week that was apparently an impossibilty. Black is white and up is down in Geekygirl's world. I offer cuddles, she pushes me away, I leave and she wails for me to return. I know that this is the crux of growing up, separating from your parents, but also wanting them close, but when in the fray I find my resolve and confidence wavering. I'm beginning to understand Geekydaddy's warnings that he was kicked out of preschool for behavioural isuses, and any offspring of his would likely be difficult to raise.
I worry that with working parents the children don't get enough of us, (though I have heard rumor that parents who stay home do also have challenging times.) I feel guilty that I just want to come home to pleasant sweet, compliant kids who say please and thankyou, and always do as they are asked without challenging every word, (anyone know where they sell kids like this?!). The preschool teachers, saints in human form, are unphased by her behaviour and navigate the storms with quiet skill, reassuring us that this is part of growing up, and is quite usual behaviour for ids at this age. I'm just hoping that eventually this strong mindedness will pay off, when she refuses to get into cars with drunk drivers as a teen, founds a green energy company and solves global warming before her 25th birthday or doggedly uncovers a new law of nature against all prevailing opinions and wins a Nobel prize.
I'm a big reader of parenting books (my favourites are "hold onto your kids", "How to talk so kids will listen" and "the secret of happy children"), and have my own hodge podge parenting philospophy of helping my kids become self determining by giving them choices, giving specific feedback rather than vague praise, using sticker reward charts, and setting rules and being consistent. Something I reminded myself of this week was that kids do need to push against the boundaries and it is our job to keep the boundaries there. That noise and tantrums are going to happen if the boundaries are to hold. I don't like tantrums and conflict, and go to great lengths to ensure my kids are preemptively snacked before outings, and that they get their naps and enough sleep. I feel as if I'm failing somehow when faced with tears and resistance, when perhaps actually, thinking with a cooler head, I am actually succeeding. I reminded myself this week that kids don't actually want the rules to change, even though they want in that moment to have cookies for dinner and wear their princess costumes to school.
A case study from my own experience is that I had got into the habit of letting geekygirl watch "you tube" disney songs on my computer most evenings, against my own preference for limited TV watching, "giving in" depending on my level of tiredness and the persistence of her whining. Concerned about so much screen time, I was then was constantly battling with her to get it turned off. I made a new rule, videos only on Tuesday (geekydaddy's yoga night so I need the help) and Friday, since Fridays are for fun, and this bone of contention is now under control. Whining gets her nowhere, the rule holds fast, and she is getting pretty knowledgable about the days of the week. And the words to Bibbety bobbedy boo.
I recently read and enjoyed "the philosophical baby" by Allison Gopnick" which has an interesting chapter about young children and rules, suggesting that we are somehow adapted as a species for rule following, and that children understand rules from a very young age. They also soon understand that some rules are arbitrary and can be negotiated (rules like "videos only on Tuesday") and that some rules have a deeper truth and cannot be changed (rules like "you should not hurt other people").
In an effort to brush up our parenting skills and give us confidence to stick to our plans, and hopefully learn a few new tricks and ideas, Geekydaddy and I are going to attend a parenting seminar on "dealing with opposition and defiance" at a local child psychology center
I have attended far more classes on dog training than I have on parenting, and if the children can be brought up to the same standard of behavior of the dog; cheery affection with occasional selective deafness and opportunistic food stealing, I'll be thrilled.
How about you? Does your three year old overwhelm the mood of the family with the force of his or her emotions? what do you do? Help, support, and advice much appreciated!
Monday, September 21, 2009
How was your weekend?
A woman in my group left for maternity leave this past Friday. At our social hour as we discussed weekend plans, those of us with children reminisced on the births of their own kids with our pregnant coworker, then we coalesced on a conversational theme: What on earth did we do on the weekends before we had kids? We all agreed that we barely remembered "weekends before kids". But afterwards, I started winding my mind back in time.
We used to go out late in the evenings, to bars, concerts, restaurants, then more bars. We used to sleep late and then read the newspaper in bed, eat "brunch" at three in the afternoon at the latest trendy spot, lie around all day devouring novels or watching a marathon of movies. We used to read recipe books, shop and carefully cook meals to share with friends. We used to make huge jugs of Sangria and drink through them, talking and laughing about nothing for hours, to the irritation of our neighbours. We used to unwind, free to talk nonsense, or read rubbish without feeling the time trickling away, that every hour should be used for something purposeful.
We certainly never imagined of a weekend like the one we just had. A good one, but full to the gills. Here is what we did just on Saturday. We reveled in the luxury of sleeping in until 7.45, Geekygirl having drifted back to sleep between us after a chorus of "Mummy, Daddy, get up, it's the weekend" at 6.00am. We ate Geekydaddy's Saturday pancakes (blackberry and banana this week), squeezed in a few episodes of Dora the Explorer, a couple of loads of laundry, and about a quarter of the newspaper, then headed out to Nordstrom for our biannual foot measuring, shoe buying spree. I was determined this year not to be caught short by the first rain of winter with kids who only own sandals, but September's early storm surprised me. Next time, rain, we'll be ready.
Geekygirl loves to shop, especially for clothes. She doesn't often get the chance, since I tend to buy online (where she gets to point at the pictures on the screen) or on my lunchbreak (though she squeals in delight when she spots the distinctive red and white "Target" bags in the trunk of the car.) Her apparel shopping trait first reared its head at a previous weekends outing, to the aquarium, where instead of choosing a stuffed animal or game as her souvenir, she grabbed a pink T shirt. Then at the zoo on a subsequent weekend she chose a rhinestone giraffe necklace. I am always torn as to whether to enter the gift shop or whisk the kids swiftly past it. Usually we go in, part because I recall how much I loved gift shops myself as a kid, and indeed treasured the felted plastic animals I bought at the wild animal park and the costumed dolls I collected on our trips to Europe. In addition, Geekygirl is terrified of the automatic flush toilets at the zoo, and I have taken to rewarding her bravery in using them with something from the shop.
The museum trips are worthwhile though. As she skipped along Mission St towards the department store Geekygirl pointed to a banner advertising the aquarium said 'Mummy, look, there's a leafy sea dragon!" The distinctive creature was indeed being used as advertising. We were filled with parental pride in our tiny naturalist, and figured the price of admission and souvenirs was worth something if she retained some knowledge of the world.
Shoe shopping with two small children can be challenging, so we have a divide and conquer approach. Geekydaddy took geekyboy and the stroller up in the elevator, quickly getting his measuring and fitting. As usual only the widest shoe in the shop was appropriate for him, this established by thrusting the shoes onto his resistant kicking feet while he lay on his back howling, undistracted by the rather nice fishtank provided for soothing entertainment of the tiny clientele. Geekygirl and I braved the thrilling escalators, the kind that encircle a central atrium giving a birds eye view of the mall. I persuaded her to get her feet measured, and then to select some shoes from the appropriate size rack. With an eye for the swankiest items, she picked out a black patent Michael Kors ballet flat with a big rhinestone buckle. Cute with a party dress, sure, I thought, but not everyday wear. I sensed a otential battleground, but she conceded to try on some white maryjanes with sturdy pink translucent soles and luckily fellinstantly in love with them. Before anyone melted down or changed their minds, and with Geekygirl still wearing her new shoes, we tried to whip the kids out of the store. The department store has kids clothing too, and geekygirl slipped of in the direction of the clothes. She found a pink and orange tie dye jersey dress with a ruffled ra ra skirt and a peace symbol in multicolored sparkles on the front. It was on the sale rack, and was so adorable that we added it to the bill and whisked them out before anything else caught her eye. As we strided over the shiny checkerboard floors, past the glittering perfume counters and jewelery displays she glanced around and asked in awe, "Mummy, is this like a castle?!"
One marathon task achieved without too many tears or public displays of defiance, and it was barely 11.00am; rolling out of bed time in our pre kid existence. Our next obligation was a birthday party down on the Peninsula, and we were actually running early. The mall was not yet busy, so we let the kids run and slide on the marble floors and took them for french fries down at the food court. I was nursing a slight hangover myself, which was ridiculous since I had barely three glasses of wine the night before, but that is what kids do to your alcohol tolerance, and the fries were most welcome.
The birthday party was of the best kind, at a sunny contained park with water and sand features, small enough that the kids could not get out of sight and the adults, fellow parents from our daycare, could chat with each other between tending to childrens needs. Geekygirl's fear of public bathrooms is always close to the surface, but she bravely told me that she needed to go. When we entered the stall she said to me "Mummy, does it have a dramatic flush?!"
I realized that she meant "Automatic flush", but I like her version, from now on that is how I am going to refer those scary, splashy, unpredictable, attention seeking, over the top toilets!
We left the party before anyone reached the end of their tether, and the kids crashed out in the car. According to our carefully laid plan this gave us a chance to stop on the way back and get groceries, using the power of our iphones to map the closest Trader Joes. Geekydaddy sat in the car with the sleepers while I whizzed around the store, balancing more ambitious items (will I actually find the time to make home made chicken stew to restock the freezer for kids lunches?) with tantrum forestalling easy essentials (Spaghetti O's and frozen meatballs).
Home again, shopping to unpack, laundry to fold, dinner to make and to eat, kids to bathe and read to, then a couple of precious hours of DVD time before we take ourselves back to bed in the hope that sleep allows us to pull some kind of strength from the universe to do the same thing, or something similar, again on Sunday.
The difference between pre and post kids is that the weekends are so long and intense, for working parents like us they are crazed mix of precious family moments and the drudgery of keeping our lives ticking over. I guess we must rejuvenate from the demanding routine of the work week with the exuberant unpredictabilty of the weekends, and then recover from those the weekends by surrendering back to the pressures of work. Don't breathe too hard, or the house of cards may tumble down.
Thinking about those pre kid days makes me realize that we could use one of those pre kid style weekends every now and again, to help us recover from the actual weekend.
We used to go out late in the evenings, to bars, concerts, restaurants, then more bars. We used to sleep late and then read the newspaper in bed, eat "brunch" at three in the afternoon at the latest trendy spot, lie around all day devouring novels or watching a marathon of movies. We used to read recipe books, shop and carefully cook meals to share with friends. We used to make huge jugs of Sangria and drink through them, talking and laughing about nothing for hours, to the irritation of our neighbours. We used to unwind, free to talk nonsense, or read rubbish without feeling the time trickling away, that every hour should be used for something purposeful.
We certainly never imagined of a weekend like the one we just had. A good one, but full to the gills. Here is what we did just on Saturday. We reveled in the luxury of sleeping in until 7.45, Geekygirl having drifted back to sleep between us after a chorus of "Mummy, Daddy, get up, it's the weekend" at 6.00am. We ate Geekydaddy's Saturday pancakes (blackberry and banana this week), squeezed in a few episodes of Dora the Explorer, a couple of loads of laundry, and about a quarter of the newspaper, then headed out to Nordstrom for our biannual foot measuring, shoe buying spree. I was determined this year not to be caught short by the first rain of winter with kids who only own sandals, but September's early storm surprised me. Next time, rain, we'll be ready.
Geekygirl loves to shop, especially for clothes. She doesn't often get the chance, since I tend to buy online (where she gets to point at the pictures on the screen) or on my lunchbreak (though she squeals in delight when she spots the distinctive red and white "Target" bags in the trunk of the car.) Her apparel shopping trait first reared its head at a previous weekends outing, to the aquarium, where instead of choosing a stuffed animal or game as her souvenir, she grabbed a pink T shirt. Then at the zoo on a subsequent weekend she chose a rhinestone giraffe necklace. I am always torn as to whether to enter the gift shop or whisk the kids swiftly past it. Usually we go in, part because I recall how much I loved gift shops myself as a kid, and indeed treasured the felted plastic animals I bought at the wild animal park and the costumed dolls I collected on our trips to Europe. In addition, Geekygirl is terrified of the automatic flush toilets at the zoo, and I have taken to rewarding her bravery in using them with something from the shop.
The museum trips are worthwhile though. As she skipped along Mission St towards the department store Geekygirl pointed to a banner advertising the aquarium said 'Mummy, look, there's a leafy sea dragon!" The distinctive creature was indeed being used as advertising. We were filled with parental pride in our tiny naturalist, and figured the price of admission and souvenirs was worth something if she retained some knowledge of the world.
Shoe shopping with two small children can be challenging, so we have a divide and conquer approach. Geekydaddy took geekyboy and the stroller up in the elevator, quickly getting his measuring and fitting. As usual only the widest shoe in the shop was appropriate for him, this established by thrusting the shoes onto his resistant kicking feet while he lay on his back howling, undistracted by the rather nice fishtank provided for soothing entertainment of the tiny clientele. Geekygirl and I braved the thrilling escalators, the kind that encircle a central atrium giving a birds eye view of the mall. I persuaded her to get her feet measured, and then to select some shoes from the appropriate size rack. With an eye for the swankiest items, she picked out a black patent Michael Kors ballet flat with a big rhinestone buckle. Cute with a party dress, sure, I thought, but not everyday wear. I sensed a otential battleground, but she conceded to try on some white maryjanes with sturdy pink translucent soles and luckily fellinstantly in love with them. Before anyone melted down or changed their minds, and with Geekygirl still wearing her new shoes, we tried to whip the kids out of the store. The department store has kids clothing too, and geekygirl slipped of in the direction of the clothes. She found a pink and orange tie dye jersey dress with a ruffled ra ra skirt and a peace symbol in multicolored sparkles on the front. It was on the sale rack, and was so adorable that we added it to the bill and whisked them out before anything else caught her eye. As we strided over the shiny checkerboard floors, past the glittering perfume counters and jewelery displays she glanced around and asked in awe, "Mummy, is this like a castle?!"
One marathon task achieved without too many tears or public displays of defiance, and it was barely 11.00am; rolling out of bed time in our pre kid existence. Our next obligation was a birthday party down on the Peninsula, and we were actually running early. The mall was not yet busy, so we let the kids run and slide on the marble floors and took them for french fries down at the food court. I was nursing a slight hangover myself, which was ridiculous since I had barely three glasses of wine the night before, but that is what kids do to your alcohol tolerance, and the fries were most welcome.
The birthday party was of the best kind, at a sunny contained park with water and sand features, small enough that the kids could not get out of sight and the adults, fellow parents from our daycare, could chat with each other between tending to childrens needs. Geekygirl's fear of public bathrooms is always close to the surface, but she bravely told me that she needed to go. When we entered the stall she said to me "Mummy, does it have a dramatic flush?!"
I realized that she meant "Automatic flush", but I like her version, from now on that is how I am going to refer those scary, splashy, unpredictable, attention seeking, over the top toilets!
We left the party before anyone reached the end of their tether, and the kids crashed out in the car. According to our carefully laid plan this gave us a chance to stop on the way back and get groceries, using the power of our iphones to map the closest Trader Joes. Geekydaddy sat in the car with the sleepers while I whizzed around the store, balancing more ambitious items (will I actually find the time to make home made chicken stew to restock the freezer for kids lunches?) with tantrum forestalling easy essentials (Spaghetti O's and frozen meatballs).
Home again, shopping to unpack, laundry to fold, dinner to make and to eat, kids to bathe and read to, then a couple of precious hours of DVD time before we take ourselves back to bed in the hope that sleep allows us to pull some kind of strength from the universe to do the same thing, or something similar, again on Sunday.
The difference between pre and post kids is that the weekends are so long and intense, for working parents like us they are crazed mix of precious family moments and the drudgery of keeping our lives ticking over. I guess we must rejuvenate from the demanding routine of the work week with the exuberant unpredictabilty of the weekends, and then recover from those the weekends by surrendering back to the pressures of work. Don't breathe too hard, or the house of cards may tumble down.
Thinking about those pre kid days makes me realize that we could use one of those pre kid style weekends every now and again, to help us recover from the actual weekend.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
did you hear the one about the gas leak at the salami plant?
When a family has two jobs, three pets and two children under the age of four, the unexpected often throws a spanner into our carefully laid plans. On Friday we had a busy day. I set off for work, first ensuring that Geekygirl had her show and tell (tiny plastic Cinderella in sparkly latex ballgown), and that Geekyboy had his lunch and enough milk for the day. Geekydaddy intended to drop the kinds at daycare, then return home and take the cats, unhappily corralled in the house since the night before, to their long overdue vet appointment. After that he had a lunch meeting in Palo Alto, and was then charged with picking up all the groceries for our weekend in Tahoe.
I have my team planning meeting on Fridays at 10.00, and then was supposed to be organizing a surprise baby shower party for one of my team members. At least I was hoping that it was still a surprise, since I had moved another meeting via "Outlook" calender webmail, with the message "meeting rescheduled due to surprise baby shower" and was having the sinking feeling that I may have accidentally sent the message to the surprisee.
In retropsect, something smelled funky in the air as I got into my car. I noticed a pungent uriney smell, but I just assumed that Orangegeek cat had been spraying the car tires again. As I drove down 101, though, I noticed that the South San Francisco exits, one of which Geekydaddy takes to get to daycare, were all closed off and police cars and ambulances were blaring all around.
Geekydaddy, coming later with the kids, tried an alternate route, but found himself shunted into a railyard and stuck in traffic with hundreds of other bemused commuters. We learned later what the problem was. An explosion at the columbus salami factory in South San Francisco had had caused an ammonia leak. the whole area was being evacuated, or people were told to "shelter in place" in their buildings. This is biotech central, so Genentech, Amgen, and countless other companies were affected. The manager sensibly decided to close our daycare, so Geekydaddy was stuck with a car full of kids and nowhere to take them. We decided to bring them to my office.
I went straight to Target and picked up diapers, wipes, crayons and assorted small toys. Kids in the office are always a welcome distraction to the other employees, and it is rather nice to show them off; they were both looking particularly adorable, Geekygirl in a pink dress with butterflies and Geekyboy in a striped polo shirt and jeans. I have a nice big office, with fun swively chairs, a white board, and magnets all over my filing cabinets, so the kids settled in and turned the space into an impromptu daycare. Geekygirl played nicely with her new spangly latex attired princess (Snow white this time), and while geekyboy was not all that interested in his blocks and dinosaurs, he did decide that my office recycling bin made a great drum. I ran my meeting with the sounds of sesame st podcasts in the background (thanks iphone), and with a toddler on my lap, crayoning all over the data we were looking at, and occasionally bashing the table to emphasize one of my points.
I managed to get most of my work done before the baby shower party, which fortunately was still a surprise, my errant email had not gone to the whole team after all. The kids sat adorably at too large chairs in our conference room, incongruously tiny, colourful and sweet in the spartan, formal room, made only marginally less so by the balloon decorations. Their legs dangling from the large chairs, they made conversation with my co-workers, while stuffing their faces with cupcakes.
I was starting to enjoy myself, the mum-to-be was delighted, the kids were being adorable. Geekygirl even remembering her "pleases" and "thankyous" and not ordering me around like a drill sergeant (my tactic of resorting to sticker charts for unprompted politeness seems to have paid off, though something about giving material rewards for mastering basic courtesy doesn't sit right with me, I needed a quick fix and her rudeness was driving me crazy). I felt rather on display, mothering my two kids under the scrutiny of the entire company!
Of course, everything went horribly wrong when a colleague, a mother of young kids herself, came over to speak to my daughter. Geekygirl is rather shy, and this encounter caused her to fumble and drop her paper cup of water. All over herself. She hates to be wet, and has no inhibitions about nudity, so as well as bursting into floods of tears, she proceeded to strip down completely, discarding her wet frock and knickers right there in the conference room. Helpful co-workers offered oversized T shirts to no avail (too big, too blue). In the end I carried my howling naked child back to my office, leaving Geekyboy munching away at the table, crossing my fingers that he would not mind my absence if surrounded by food. My only spare clothing options for Geekygirl were her sweater and one of the diapers I had purchased for geekyboy that morning, so that is how she was dressed for the rest of the day, returning to the lunch party cheery and ready for more cake! If only I had the foresight to pick up a spare outfit on my preparatory shopping spree.
Afterwards, one of our VP's said that he now saw me in a new light. I'm hoping he means that having seen me successfully negotiate the "screaming, naked, soaking child" situation he realizes that I am ready for a director role. What do you think?
I have my team planning meeting on Fridays at 10.00, and then was supposed to be organizing a surprise baby shower party for one of my team members. At least I was hoping that it was still a surprise, since I had moved another meeting via "Outlook" calender webmail, with the message "meeting rescheduled due to surprise baby shower" and was having the sinking feeling that I may have accidentally sent the message to the surprisee.
In retropsect, something smelled funky in the air as I got into my car. I noticed a pungent uriney smell, but I just assumed that Orangegeek cat had been spraying the car tires again. As I drove down 101, though, I noticed that the South San Francisco exits, one of which Geekydaddy takes to get to daycare, were all closed off and police cars and ambulances were blaring all around.
Geekydaddy, coming later with the kids, tried an alternate route, but found himself shunted into a railyard and stuck in traffic with hundreds of other bemused commuters. We learned later what the problem was. An explosion at the columbus salami factory in South San Francisco had had caused an ammonia leak. the whole area was being evacuated, or people were told to "shelter in place" in their buildings. This is biotech central, so Genentech, Amgen, and countless other companies were affected. The manager sensibly decided to close our daycare, so Geekydaddy was stuck with a car full of kids and nowhere to take them. We decided to bring them to my office.
I went straight to Target and picked up diapers, wipes, crayons and assorted small toys. Kids in the office are always a welcome distraction to the other employees, and it is rather nice to show them off; they were both looking particularly adorable, Geekygirl in a pink dress with butterflies and Geekyboy in a striped polo shirt and jeans. I have a nice big office, with fun swively chairs, a white board, and magnets all over my filing cabinets, so the kids settled in and turned the space into an impromptu daycare. Geekygirl played nicely with her new spangly latex attired princess (Snow white this time), and while geekyboy was not all that interested in his blocks and dinosaurs, he did decide that my office recycling bin made a great drum. I ran my meeting with the sounds of sesame st podcasts in the background (thanks iphone), and with a toddler on my lap, crayoning all over the data we were looking at, and occasionally bashing the table to emphasize one of my points.
I managed to get most of my work done before the baby shower party, which fortunately was still a surprise, my errant email had not gone to the whole team after all. The kids sat adorably at too large chairs in our conference room, incongruously tiny, colourful and sweet in the spartan, formal room, made only marginally less so by the balloon decorations. Their legs dangling from the large chairs, they made conversation with my co-workers, while stuffing their faces with cupcakes.
I was starting to enjoy myself, the mum-to-be was delighted, the kids were being adorable. Geekygirl even remembering her "pleases" and "thankyous" and not ordering me around like a drill sergeant (my tactic of resorting to sticker charts for unprompted politeness seems to have paid off, though something about giving material rewards for mastering basic courtesy doesn't sit right with me, I needed a quick fix and her rudeness was driving me crazy). I felt rather on display, mothering my two kids under the scrutiny of the entire company!
Of course, everything went horribly wrong when a colleague, a mother of young kids herself, came over to speak to my daughter. Geekygirl is rather shy, and this encounter caused her to fumble and drop her paper cup of water. All over herself. She hates to be wet, and has no inhibitions about nudity, so as well as bursting into floods of tears, she proceeded to strip down completely, discarding her wet frock and knickers right there in the conference room. Helpful co-workers offered oversized T shirts to no avail (too big, too blue). In the end I carried my howling naked child back to my office, leaving Geekyboy munching away at the table, crossing my fingers that he would not mind my absence if surrounded by food. My only spare clothing options for Geekygirl were her sweater and one of the diapers I had purchased for geekyboy that morning, so that is how she was dressed for the rest of the day, returning to the lunch party cheery and ready for more cake! If only I had the foresight to pick up a spare outfit on my preparatory shopping spree.
Afterwards, one of our VP's said that he now saw me in a new light. I'm hoping he means that having seen me successfully negotiate the "screaming, naked, soaking child" situation he realizes that I am ready for a director role. What do you think?
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