Confessions of a working mom

My new job is insane. It's insane partially because I think that's just how it's going to be, and partially because I am trying to learn it while simultaneously doing my old job (because there's no one else to do it). I had seven meetings today, and there were two times where two meetings overlapped. It's that kind of crazy. I left work late and Hannah was the last kid left at daycare, which doesn't happen often but still makes me feel like a horrible mother when it does. It's been bugging me all evening.

It occurs to me that because I had a child while still on the upward climb of my career, I have set myself up for many years of internal conflict and guilt over pursuing career advancement. I thought I'd already understood it, but with this job I think I've hit the point where it's really going to be something that weighs on me. While my family will always be the most important thing in the world to me, my career is still important, too. I hope that in the long run this will be a really good example for my daughter - that you can do all the things you want to do, and have success in your own right while also being a good wife and mother. But I think the key is marrying well; that is, marrying someone who supports that, and plays an active role in the daily running of the family. I'm lucky my husband supports my ambition, and that he is an active dad who would never, ever refer to spending time with Hannah as "babysitting." But I still have guilt.

The other day, I was talking to one of my friends, who's expecting a baby. I said to her that I felt like the decision to be a working mom is a catch-22: if you stay home, people may undervalue you because you're not "working" and you may feel like you should be doing more (which is a crock); if you work, some will judge your career dedication negatively, and you'll feel guilty for not staying home (also a crock). None of this is fair, but as my mom always said, "Who ever promised fair?" The answer, now as it was when I wanted a Whistle Pop at the grocery store, is "nobody."

I know that I would not be a very good stay-at-home mom. I mean, I'd be okay at it, but I don't think my daughter would be as well-rounded if she were stuck with me all the time. In fact, judging by the few times we've been on our own for a few days when her dad was traveling, I'd say we'd get pretty sick of each other. I've said a million times that she wouldn't know how to do half the stuff she knows how to do, because it wouldn't occur to me to teach her. We're always so impressed when she starts doing something new - and one of us usually says, "Did you know she could do that?" And then we start working with her at home, too...but it takes a little kick in the pants to get us started. I also know I wouldn't be one of those moms who's really good about arranging activities and crafts and things, and I don't think I'd like "mommy & me" classes very much.

At the same time, I wonder about being a working mom and if my drive for success is going to affect Hannah. She's already good about applying the guilt when I travel, and it's awful. It makes me feel selfish - but really, although we certainly need my salary and it helps a lot, the real reason, deep down, that I work is for me. I need it. I need the interaction with people, and the intellectual stimulation, and the ability to feel like I'm accomplishing something that's just mine. I've said before that I was the first person in my family to graduate college, and I went to college for a reason, and that reason was to have a successful career. So I guess it is a bit selfish. But I also think that's probably okay.

What I can't figure out is why there's guilt, anyway. I mean, who ever said I have to be the one to pick up my kid from day care every day? Who said I'm the one who has to get up first in the morning, and get everyone else moving? Who said I'm the one who has to make dinner? Certainly not my husband, who is more than willing and able to share all these responsibilities. Not my parents, both of whom always worked when I was growing up. Even my grandmas worked. Sometimes I think it's a function of moving to a different geographic area, where there seem to be more stay-at-home moms than I ever encountered where I grew up. I don't think I had any friends when I was younger whose moms didn't work. Everybody's mom worked. They had to, and that was that. So you'd think that moms my age would have purged all that guilt and second-guessing, because even their moms worked and they turned out just fine.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I just always feel like I should be doing more.

Sorry to be so pensive. I just needed to get all that out.

Am I a grown-up?

Today I wore a dress to work. I haven't worn (or owned) a dress since approximately my wedding day. I'm not sure why, but for about five years I wouldn't even wear skirts. I think I just decided I was too pale to go without nylons, and nylons just aren't cool. (Sorry, they're just not.) But a few years ago I decided to go back to skirts, and then last weekend I bought a really fabulous summer dress...and so the evolution to Grown-Up Professional Career Woman seems sort of complete.

I even have a hairstyle now - layers, rather than just Long Hair. Wow. Who knew?

Also, I bought shorts for the first time in about five years, too...since shorts that actually have an inseam are back in. Can't do short shorts. Nobody wants to see that. I told my mother I changed out of a dress and into shorts, and I think she about collapsed. *chuckle*

Awww

I was reading the news on CNN and found this photo from a gay marriage ceremony in San Francisco.

I know this won't please some of my readers (not that I have many readers, but you know what I mean), but I think the picture of those two old ladies getting married is the sweetest thing. They're 87 and 84, for pete's sake; who knows how long they've waited to be able to get married? (Edited: Just read another story that says they've been together 55 years. Whoa.) So congratulations to them, and have some cake for me.

And maybe someday the rest of the country will realize we've got much bigger things to worry about than two people who love each other wanting to make their devotion legal. Nuff said.

From princess to mistress

If you happen to view my profile, you may notice that my occupation has been changed from "Princess of PR" to "Mistress of Marketing." This is because I've accepted a new job (a promotion!) at the company where I work. I'm quite excited about trying something new...and about recycling loads and loads of magazines from my cubicle that I'm no longer responsible for keeping. :)

I tried to find another royal title that started with M (to maintain the alliterative value I love so much), but all I could come up with was "Marchioness"...and that's not really very well-known or easy to say. So I went with "Mistress" instead. Perhaps not as regal, but still a lot more interesting than "Manager."

I start "transitioning" to my new job (read: starting my new job while still doing my old one) on Monday. I'm moving cubes, which is sort of sad as I am leaving the Best Cube in the Universe for something decidedly less wonderful, but the upshot is that I am really getting rid of a lot of stuff I never needed to keep in the first place. I have to shed the baggage of the old job so there will be room to accumulate baggage from the new one. *chuckle*

So that's my news. If you want more details, email me and I'll tell you...because this is as much as I'm going to say about work in a public forum!

Bummer

So, one of the things I was REALLY looking forward to after finishing school was being able to go back to kickboxing class. Tonight was the first night. I found out this morning (because I am well-connected) that there's drama going on at the gym, and my regular instructor - who is awesome - was told that her services were no longer needed.

I know of 5 people who dropped out before class even started because of this. (We really love our instructor.) But I thought I'd give it a try, to be fair, and it was disappointingly low-impact. I haven't been to kickboxing for almost four months, and I never even got short of breath. I only stopped twice to take a drink of water. And the class finished 10 minutes early! We used to go 20 minutes over. I think it was probably fine if you'd never done kickboxing before and maybe hadn't worked out in a long time. But it's not enough for me, so I'll be asking for a refund.

Bummer.

Cats can growl

It's true. When they are truly, really, awfully furious beyond recognition, they growl just like dogs. At least, our cat Lewis does.

See, aside from our human kid, we have two feline kids. And I spent two hours at the animal ER with one of those feline kids last night. Poor Lewis. He's a mess. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that there was a great deal of cat vomit going on at our house. Not good for us, not good for our carpet and certainly not good for Lewis.

So the poor guy got shoved in his cat carrier at 8:45 last night, and we drove to the animal ER. He was actually quite calm for the first portion of the visit. He just camped out on the scale (where it was learned he'd lost 3/4 of a pound in just a few days) and even let the nurse take his temperature. If you pause to think about how they take cat temperatures, you will be as amazed as I was at his calm nature.

He had a fever, but they couldn't figure out what was wrong. He got x-rays. Nothing. Then he had bloodwork. Nothing serious, except that he was dehydrated. It was decided that he probably had some sort of infection and they would give him an injection of fluids under his skin, as well as an injections of antibiotics and anti-nausea medication.

That's when it all went downhill. I, sitting alone in the exam room reading Cat Fancy - which, by the way, is the most disturbing magazine I have ever read, but it was the only thing in there other than the Veterinarian's Oath - heard noises coming from the back room that sounded vaguely like a cat might be making them, but not really. I've never heard noises like that. The vet came back in and said, "Okay, he's had enough. We can't handle him anymore." I said, "That was MY cat making those noises??" Poor, poor Lewis. He must have been so mad and confused. They brought him back into the room in his cat carrier, and he was FURIOUS. If there's a level beyond furious, that's what he was. And he growled at me. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he was a rottweiler. I felt really bad for him.

Since they were unable to give him injections, they sent us home with antibiotic pills and anti-nausea liquid medicine, with instructions that he shouldn't eat or drink anything for the night. It took us about 30 minutes to get him to take his medicines. Brock swaddled him in a towel and did a full body bind so he couldn't get away, while I pried his mouth open and crammed a pill in approximately 87 times. The liquid was marginally easier. Poor Lewis.

He's eaten a little today and seems to be doing a bit better. His nose is cold again (last night it was warm). So hopefully he's on the mend. Thankfully, Hegemon doesn't seem to have gotten it. We think Lewis might have picked up some germs at the vet's office last week, when we had to take him in for his seasonal allergy shot. (Yeah, he has allergies and asthma, too.)

So, does anybody have any good tips for getting a cat to eat pills?

P.S. There was an article in Cat Fancy about alternative medicine for cats. You'll be interested to know that acupuncture can be beneficial, but you shouldn't pursue chiropractic treatment because cats' frames are too small. Seriously - cat acupuncture? Catupuncture? I really, really love our cats, but that magazine freaked me out. Why have so many specialty breeds of cats when there are thousands and thousands of little mutt kitties who need homes? I don't get it. And I am not getting catupuncture for Lewis...unless maybe it would help his asthma? KIDDING!

BARACK OBAMA!!!!

I just finished watching Barack Obama's speech in Minnesota. It occurs to me:

1) that I may never see another presidential candidate like this in my lifetime.
2) that one day, Hannah is going to ask us about this when she has to write a report for school.
3) that it feels pretty amazing to live through a historic time that's actually positive.
4) that this is the first time I have nearly cried when hearing a presidential candidate speak - because I was inspired, and hopeful, and optimistic, and moved.
5) that I am proud to have voted for this man three times.
6) that I am going to his next campaign event that is anywhere near where we live - and I don't care when it is. I will not miss out on this experience.
7) that Barack Obama is an excellent example of why I always wanted to get into politics - and his rarity is the reason why I didn't do it.
8) that it may be weird to clap and cheer for a political speech while sitting in your living room in your pajamas, but I did it anyway.
9) that this is the first time I've really wanted someone to be president because I believed in him, and not because I just really didn't want the other guy.
10) that I am, for once, extremely proud to be an American.

If he's elected president, Barack Obama certainly won't be able to do everything he wants to do; no president ever can. But he's a once-in-a-lifetime candidate, and he makes me believe things can be better. I'm in awe that I am living through the time in American history when we finally have an African American presidential candidate. I am in awe that it's THIS African American candidate who, even if he were purple, would still be the most inspiring political figure I've ever seen. I feel privileged to be part of this, even if my part is very small.

I can't wait to vote again!