Doing 180 seems to have stirred up some strong feelings and I guess I wasn’t as clear as I thought. So here’s what I was trying to say: I was saying that if I stayed home and didn’t work at all, I’d become a little nutty and eventually be the mom wearing the funky hat. So I need to work, in some way, other than working to take care of my kids, even though I may not always want to. And it’s that tension of doing what I don’t always want to do, but seeing the benefit in spite of myself that makes me a grown woman and I’ll continue to work to keep the funky hat at bay. I agree with your comments:
There are many ways to define adulthood.

And it is about our choices, of which we sometimes have so many: work, don’t work, work a little, work a lot, work a lot with a little help, work a little with a little help, work a lot with a lot of help….
The subject of working and mothering is something that I’m going to continue to address, because that’s what grown women do…GOTCHA. No seriously, I am going to keep writing about it becasue it fascinates me and is something I’m trying to figure out.
As for Blogher, I’m glad you guys had such a great experience. As you know, mine was mixed.

This weekend preschoolblogger let me in on a little secret: he’s spoiled or well on his way to passing the grateful-kid due date. Admitting this doesn’t fill me with relief. This isn’t one of the stories where now that I’ve named the problem I feel like I can do something about it. It’s more like the way I imagine women must slowly realize their husbands are having an affair. Its a slow, steady subconcious reckoning where you’ve known all along, but just were too tired to deal and then bang, one comment and it all clicks. The worst part is, I know I’m to blame.
Here are my clues: (more…)

In the past few weeks, I’ve recieved a string of emails from friends who’ve decided to stop working so they can be home with their kids full-time. And last week it happened so much it reminded me of when everyone was losing their jobs in the dotcom bust in 2001. Only this time it was good news, except that my friend’s tone sounded just as worn out as the folks who had been laid off. A sample email read: After thinking it over, it’s time for me to stop trying to work full-time with two kids and just stay home a while.

These emails, gave me a lump in my throat each time. It was a mix of disbelief and jealousy. It was that same happy-sad pang I’d get when a friend got engaged while I was waitng for fatherblogger to give me a ring. Inside, I was genuinely pleased, thinking, you go girl! And then, naturally my next thought was to turn around and ask someone, myself, my husband, can I go too? (more…)

I was reading amalah.com’s post about going to a blogging conference in San Jose this weekend and it totally hit home. While I couldn’t be more excited to finally meet other bloggers and spread the word about motherblogger since I feel like I’ve been blogging in a vacuum until just about the other day I’m torn about leaving preschool and babyblogger home with nannyblogger. See when I got wind of the conference, I convinced Fatherblogger it was just the trip we needed—alone. We’d get uninterrupted sleep for THREE nights and yes (more…)

Since we’ve been spending every weekend away at someone’s house—it gets hot in the city—I find myself packing Thursday and unpacking Sunday and I’ve finally got it down to a pretty good science. But the one thing I realize that are as important as wipes: thank you cards. From now on, I’m packing them and writing them the morning we leave so that I’ve said thank you for the wonderful weekend before the working week rush. I just got an email from the friend we visited this weekend and I was so annoyed with myself because she emailed me hello before I got to email her thank you for the amazing meals and good times. I know its a small thing, but its those small things that make a difference.

Preschoolblogger has become very interested in his butt. On the plane going to Boston this past weekend he had an accident and peed in his pants, what can you do, the TVs on Jet Blue are just that exciting. So he’s sitting in his seat in only wearing a new pair of underwear because I was a bad mommy and forgot to put extra pair of pants in the babybag. And he asks fatherblogger sitting next to him to tickle him. So fatherblogger tickles his side. No, he says very loudly: Tickle my butt. Tickle my butt. Tiiiiccckkkllleee my BUTT!

Then today, I was at the drugstore buying Bourdreaux’s Butt Paste for Babyblogger and preschoolblogger says: Butt Paste! Butt Paste? Why on Earth do we need paste for our butts?

And then after dinner we were walking to get an ice cream and because I’m a few feet ahead of him he shouts out: Hey mom I’m farting. I’m farting big farts.

Tonight I was supposed to go to a bingo birthday party at Tortilla Flats. It’s a traditon, we’ve gone for five years and our table has never won. This, our sixth year anniversary was going to be our year. But babyblogger had a virus and I needed to be home. I felt bad but once I got home I was glad to deal with his horrendous diaper rash, running nose and upset tummy myself. And after I put babyblogger to bed preschool blogger and I got to hang out. Fatherblogger is away on business (and if this storm keeps up I’m afraid he’ll never get home) so I let him stay up late (more…)

Ok I did it, I put babyblogger in a dress. And I know you’re all thinking she’s crazy, save the photos for therapy, blahblahblah. But admit it, he is the most adorable girl. Just a beautiful adorable girl. Suddenly the tough, bruiser of a boy is dainty, almost coy. And my mother and I just swooned! And no, I’m not going to do it again, in fact I purposely left this dress (once mine) and the others at her home to avoid temptation. And yes, I believe he’s my baby (aka my plaything) during the baby year and this is when I can do it to him and that’s that.
See, so pretty. So very very pretty.