A day in the life of a working mom

8:30 Dropped Kinderblogger off at school. Met with parent coordinator about Kinderblogger’s homework/handwriting stress. School social worker dropped by and gave me a super fat pencil and said it should help.

9:30 Took subway into city to interview celebrity. While waiting at Ritz-Carlton, spied an amazing painting, but in my pre-interview jitters, forgot to ask concierge who the artist is, just to know not to buy. Celeb was real-life pretty, generous, forthcoming, etc.

12:30 Wrote copy back at the office. Chatted with coworker about the pros/cons of moving to Montclair school system.

2:00 Dashed back home on the F (if one can ever dash on the F) to take Toddlerblogger to doctor for annual checkup.

2:40 Loaded Toddlerblogger in car. Turned key, realized battery was dead. Unloaded Toddlerblogger out of car and hailed a cab.

2:45 Realized I had no cash. Asked taxidriver to babysit Toddlerlogger in cab while I ran to ATM.

3:20 Doctorblogger told me Toddlerblogger needs to stop pinching my nipples and anyone’s nipples. “You can let him pinch his own, but it’s time for him to stop with everyone elses.”

4:00 Came home. Watched a bicyclist get frisked by the police in front of my house. Made sure to lock the door. Dropped Toddlerblogger at park with Nannyblogger. Kissed Kinderblogger hello and goodbye. Caught train back to city.

4:30 Walking to event at Google offices, saw a pile of garbage grow arms and realized it was a homeless person who had tied rumpled bits of newspaper like pretty little ribbons all over his body.

4:45 Toured Google offices with other media folks. We ogled Google’s IKEA-with-computers vibe, free organic jellybeans and the security guard that shadowed us.

5:15 Dashed out of the Google office, which is a whole city block long, to get home to meet mechanic.

6:00 Caught mechanic just before he was closing shop. He kindly met me at car and diagnosed the car with a dead alternator. $650! Ouch!

7:30 Got Kinder-and-toddlerblogger ready for bed.

8:30 Decided to blow off my at-home yoga CD in favor of uncorking a bottle of rosé and counting the times I rode the subway: 6 and cabs: 2.

Kinderblogger has a girlfriend even if he doesn’t know it. The girl, who I’ll call darlingblogger and is adorable. She helps kinderblogger write his name, something he’s struggling with, and she also encourages him to fill out his drawings to include hands on his figures and make-mommy-pretty eyelashes. I love her and am all for it, especially since I really want a girl in the family. According to the email below, I may just get my wish.
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There have been a few signs that we might want to move out of the city: Astronomical real estate prices in our neighborhood; Kindergardenblogger’s constant begging for a yard. (Always at 7pm, always when the bigger kids are playing out back in their yard which he can see from his bedroom). But last night might have been the clincher. Around 1:30am Fatherblogger and I woke up to the sound of retching. We sat up and jumped out of bed, he ran to toddlerblogger, I ran to kindergartenblogger. Both were sound asleep. (more…)

“SLING SHOT MONKEY” “SLING SHOT MONKEY MONEY”. I sat in the auditorium trying to hide the concern in my face as 100 kindergarteners chanted SLINGSHOT MONKEY at the school’s annual Fall Catalog Sale kickoff assembly. Every year the company that runs our fall catalog sale throws a rollicking, slapstick assembly to get the kids all excited to sell, sell, sell. Brian, the catalog’s “entertainer/motivational speaker” who was well-meaning but had the charisma of a Best Buy sales guy explained to grades K through 2 that whoever sold 15 items would be rewarded with a slingshot monkey stuffed animal. All it took was for him to fling that thing across the auditorium and lust was in the air. They wanted that monkey and they were going to hit up their relatives and unload 15 rolls of wrapping paper to get it. (more…)

My youngest darling babyblogger, has officially turned two, and nearly overnight he’s turned bad. On the morning of his birthday, he woke up as his usual sweet, amicable easy-going babyblogger self and then around noon, the time he was born, he became this brand new don’t-screw-with-me temper tantrum toddlerblogger. The changes were immediate: babyblogger would wear shoes. Tdddlerblogger hates them and throws them into the street. I decided to make my life easier by putting him in a pair of proper Velcro sandals that he couldn’t chuck into on coming traffic. But toddlerblogger was having none of it. He hated the shoes so much he started to drag his feet along the pavement as if he was a pirate with two peg legs. As soon as I saw his shoe-shtick, I rolled my eyes and told him to cool it. We were standing in front of an outdoor cafe and I got the feeling people, especially a new mother with a baby in a Snap-n-Go, noticed my tone and turned to watch. Temper-tantrum toddler could sense it too and he “fell” on the ground scratching his chin in full view of the new mother enjoying her sleeping infant, burger and pint of Guinness.

Oooh naughty naught bratty rat!

But now that we were players in a street scene, I had to be the good mother so I softened, bent down, wiped his chin, let him change into his Crocs knowing he still throw them in the street. Our recovery was brief because as soon as we reached the curb, Toddlerblogger refused to hold my hand to cross the street so I had to pick up him (did I mention I was also pushing an empty stroller, walking the dog and carrying his scooter in my other hand?). Because I had to carry him and push the stroller and the dog I ended up zigzagging across and looking very much like a mom who didn’t have anything under control. Watch and learn new mom, watch and learn.

The rest of the afternoon didn’t really get any better and Toddlerblogger was still insisting on doing his barefoot impression of Fred Flinstone and he was still refusing to hold my hand when it was time to cross the street. Inevitably, as we were waiting at a curb he threw his Croc in the middle of the street. Only this time when I rushed over to pick it up, a woman bent down to get it for me and behold, it was the new mom who had watched us at the cafe before. Our eyes met and she nodded at me. Mom: 1. Toddlerblogger: 0.

Maybe it was the warm, Magnolia-scented June air that made me feel generous. Or maybe I was still nursing my aimlessness, but at the last PTA meeting of the school year, I volunteered to be Fundraising chair for preschoolblogger’s  (soon to be a kindergartenerblogger) school. It was the one position that wasn’t filled, (a telling sign I didn’t pick up on) so I offered my help on the condition I’d have a co-chair. A new friend volunteered and the next thing I knew we were smiling side-by-side with the rest of the executive committee for snapshot for the school newspaper. (more…)

That’s what a friend called staying home with her kids. I laughed so hard I nearly choked on my turkey burger. But I still wanted to try it, positive that when I stayed home I would be fulfilled. And now, I do stay home, two days a week on Mondays and Fridays. No work. No office work that is. Its been about a month and our house is calmer, there is (occasionally) more food in the fridge and the floors are cleaner. I finally had time to clean out our junk drawer and the boys drawers only have clothes that actually fit them. But there’s one thing I haven’t been able to keep so tidy: my sense of myself.

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The other night Fatherblogger, preschoolblogger, babyblogger and even naughtydoggyblogger were playing role-playing game where everybody was somebody else in the family. Daddyblogger was babyblogger. Mommyblogger was Daddyblogger. Babyblogger was naughtydoggyblogger. Preschoolblogger sat on the run and cried out: who am I?! Who am I?!

I turned to him and said, you, you preschoolblogger are mommyblogger.
He looked at me, threw his head back and said: But I wanted a better one!

And there you have it.