House Hunters

We've been looking to buy a new home for the last year or so and have found something wrong with everything.

Too small, too big, too pricey, too close to electrical wires, bad backyard, noisy neighbros, bad floorplan, bad flow, narrow hallways, etc, etc, etc.

But now it's crunch time. The baby is coming (or as I like to call it--Babemaggedon--since I absolutely dread the chaos and sleep-deprivation that is bound to occur). So we need to get settled. Now!  My spidey-mom nesting instincts are tingling like crazy.

So we put our picky preferences aside and bit the bullet--we put in an offer yesterday. We're competing against 2 other bidders and I'm biting my nails, hoping, hoping, hoping they'll choose us.

By the end of today, I'll either be celebrating with a bowl of icecream, or comforting myself with that same bowl.

I guess that's kind of a win-win.

The Bump

Yesterday I had a short conversation with a coworker I haven't seen in a while...

She: Wow, you're pregnant!  When are you due?

Me: In January!

She: Wow, that's still a ways off.  You're huge!  Are you having twins?

Me: [What I wanted to say]  Wow, that's incredibly rude!  You're soooo old and ancient-looking, you should know better.  What are you, 75? 80? (In reality, she's probably just 60.)

Me: [What I actually said]  Um, nope, just one baby!

But kinda makes me wonder, do I really look that big?  You be the judge...

Me and my giant middle.

Judah's Prayers

Me: Do you want to pray Judah?
Judah: Yeah!  Pray!
Me: Close your eyes and fold your hands.  Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Thank you for my toys...
Judah: Thank you for my toys...
Me: and my choo-choos...
Judah: and my choo-choos...
Me: In Jesus' name
Judah: In Jesus' name
Me: Amen.
Judah: Amen!

Judah: Again!

Me: Okay...Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Thank you for daddy
Judah: Thank you for daddy...and mommy, and Delia, and Naty, and Cello...
[Trust me, these are real people, long story.]
Me: In Jesus' name...
Judah: Amen!

Judah: Again!

Me: Okay, last time...Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Help me...
Judah: Help me...
Me: Be a good boy.
Judah: *total silence*

Me: So, you don't want to be a good boy huh?

Be Nice

Hi!  It's me, just real quick.  I'm buried under piles and piles of work.  But I just HAVE to get some things down.  Cuz if I don't I'll explode, or rather, I'll just keep thinking about how much I want to blog about you and be completely distracted and inefficent at work.

Last Sunday you were a cranky screaming banshee.  You started an epic meltdown 90 minutes before your usual bedtime and I took that as a sign that you were pretty darn ready to go to bed right that minute!  You screamed and wailed no matter how I tried to soothe you so I decided I should just put you in your crib, close the door and walk out.

As you saw me turning to leave, you turned up your meltdown to high-terror-alert RED (which I've never seen before and definitely scared the crap out of me).  Your voice got 50 decibals louder and you started jumping up and down like a frantic lunatic.  So of course I stayed in your room and tried to calm you down.

And as you laid in bed wailing, you said "Mommy, no leave.  Mommy, be nice.  Be nice."

That took my breath away.  You've always begged me to stay, but you've never asked me to 'be nice' before.  It seems you've graduated to another level of cognition--not just asking for physical acts, but appealing to my psychological motivations--asking me to find it in my heart to be kind and stay with you.  Unbelievable.

Lately, in general, you've just been so much more expressive about what you're feeling too.  You've gone from merely describing things like "This is apple.  This is blue," to actually talking about how you feel about them.  Now you'll exclaim "I love it!  I love it!" or "This is yummy!  I like it!" or "This is fun!"

Or my favorite, which you'll say at random times "Mommy, I so happy."  Awwww, I'm happy too baby.

You are quite the little communicator!

I guess it's no surprise as your dad is one of the MOST talkative people I've ever met, heck he does it for a living.  And your mom ain't a quiet person either!

I Gone Cry

Sometimes I feel such overwhelming mom guilt.

Yesterday I was trying to get Judah ready for bed and he once again acted up and refused to cooperate.  He wiggled around and absolutely refused to let me put his overnight diapers on.  Diaper creams, powders, flailing toddler kicks--it was a total mess.  And then it was another WWF wrestling match to get his pajamas on.

Then when it came time to brush his teeth he would not open his mouth.  Or he would open it and chomp down on the toothbrush sucking out all the delicious sweet toothpaste and very deftly avoided having the brush touch any tooth surface.  Such a talented kid.

Throughout each of these struggles, I'd tell him he needs to be a good boy or else he's going to get a time out.  And do you know how he responded?  By repeating "I a bad boy!  I bad boy!  I want timeout!"

At the peak of this rebellion I just lost it.  I yelled at him--JUDAH, OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND GIVE ME THE TOOTHBRUSH.  NOWWWWWW!!!!!!

Something in my tone must've startled him (or maybe it was the sheer volume) because his eyes instantly welled up with tears.  But instead of crying he just looked at me with his eyes brimming.

If he had just cried and wailed I wouldn't have felt so bad.  It would've been just a normal reflexive reaction to the yelling.

But instead he looked at me and did something I never saw him do before.  He said, "Mommy, I gone cry."

Why was he telling me this?  Why not just cry? 

It felt like he was asking for permission.  Like he wanted to cry but was afraid that I'd get upset if he did.  Like he was trying to be brave and not upset me but he wanted me to know that I hurt his feelings.

The pitifulness of it all just broke my heart.  All night long as I was drifting to sleep I ruminated and replayed his little voice saying--Mommy, I gone cry.

It's so funny how parents know when it's ok for their child to be crying and when it's not.  When I'm calmly dishing out discipline to Judah and he cries his head off, I feel nothing but rightness about the situation.  I told you the consequence, you chose to disobey and now you are suffering the pain of those consequences.

And then there are times I feel nothing but guilt.  The rage, the blown fuse, the completely frayed last nerve standing.

Nothing makes me understand like a whirling dervish toddler that, indeed, patience is a virtue...of which I have so little.

Cuzzies

It's so great to have Judah's cousin, Manfred, living nearby.

We're just a coupla innocent kids left at the laundromat.  Can we come home with you?

Manfred recently turned 1 this summer and the two of them are interacting a lot more now that Manfred can walk on his own and is generally more 'aware' of things around him.

Just kidding!  We are hilarious!

I feel like they have similar facial features, but in very different face-shapes.  Kinda like Mr. Potato-heads where one face is long and the other is round.

If I lean forward and he leans backward we won't tip over!

I hope they'll always live close by and have some great boyhood adventures together!  I can only imagine the mischief these two silly-billies will get into left to their own devices!

Did I mention that we're hilarious?

You at Two

Finally, the 3 week sh*tstorm of work has let up a little and I can write a little snapshot of you at the ripe old age of 2!


But what can I say about my sweet baby boy? How can I possibly describe all the wonderful ways you make me smile every time I think of you?

Sometimes I forget that you just turned 2 cuz you act like you understand everything I’m saying. You are so incredibly responsive and talkative and you continually shock me with your level of comprehension.

Here’s some of my favorite conversations with you:

You: Mommy, where my train?
Me: Um, I think it’s behind the couch.
(You walk behind the couch and spot your train)
You: Oh! Thank you!

We literally have this conversation 10 times a day. It’s that little “Oh!” that gets me every time. So adult sounding.

**********************

You: Mommy, where my truck?
Me: I don’t know Judah. You throw your toys everywhere.
You: Oh…don’t worry, I find it later.

**********************

You (while doing something dangerous): Mommy, look, look, look, look Mommy, look, look, Mommy, look,…
(But it sounds like: Mommy, luke, luke, luke...)

**********************

You (while doing something that makes me burst out laughing): I funny boy.

**********************

Me: Judah, you have to sit in your car seat. PLEASE! (after you resists for the 50th time)
You (magically, out of the thin blue air): Ok, I good boy! (and you give up all struggle and sit nicely in your seat).

Needless to say I LOVE when you decide to be a ‘good boy’.

***********************

Me: Ow! (after clumsily inflicting injury on myself somehow)
You: Mommy are you ok? Ok? Mommy?
Me: Yeah, I’m fine.
You: Massage, massage (while massaging me). Feel better?

***********************

Me (panicked because I've lost sight of you): Judah!  Where are you?!  Judah?!
You: I right here!
(But it sounds like: I rah hah!)

Your favorite activities are:

--Reading. You can literally sit and have us read you books until Jesus comes back. Sometimes you want the same story 5 times. You don’t seem to care what story it is but some favorites are The Lorax, Stop That Ball! (which you call Ball Tuba cuz there’s a scene where the ball gets stuck in a tuba), Sam and the Firefly, and any Curious George.

--Playing with Trains. A generous friend lent us a huge box full of Thomas trains and tracks and you’ve literally played with it every single day since you’ve gotten them 2 months ago. Every. Single. Day. You say “Mommy, I want play choo-choos. First build the track. Then choo-choo go round the track!”

--Driving. Every time we park the car in the driveway…EVERY. Single. Time. You always say “Judah drive, little bit, little bit. And then go home.” So if I want to avoid a total meltdown, I’ll put you in the driver’s seat as you proceed to push every button possible. The emergency lights, the interior car lights, the wipers. But most annoying is when you force feed me Altoids from the tin we keep in front. Maybe you’re just politely trying to tell me my breath stinks. But regardless, it’s annoying. And you always want to turn on the radio, “Music, no too loud” you always say.

--Playing with Nenes (that’s little kids in Spanish). You love playing with kids of all ages--1 to 91. You make me troll around the neighborhood with you looking for playmates. “Mommy, where the nenes?” you always ask. Playing with other toddlers usually entails just copying what they’re doing. Running around, flapping your arms, jumping up and down. It’s weird what passes for socialization at your age.

Your favorite foods are:

--Spicy chips! Specifically, Salsa Picante chips from Tias. They are seriously adult-spicy. You MUST dip them in sour cream and sip milk to wash down the spice.

--Strawberries. I love how you call them strawbay-bays. You’re also pretty fond of blackberries and raspberries although you strangely won’t tolerate blueberries.

--Watermelon (Wa-wa-melon)

--Cantaloupe (Camolope)

--Apples (which you always have to inform me is: manzanas)

--Peanuts (no nut allergies here thankfully!)

As you can tell, you basically only like fruit and snack foods. You’re not at all into ‘real’ food and NEVER eat whatever we’re eating. Much to my consternation, you won’t try all the regular ‘kid foods’ like pizza, hot dogs, chicken nuggets, fish sticks, or hamburgers. But the ONE thing you’ll eat is mac n’ cheese. Ugh. You drive us crazy worrying about how to fix you food that you’ll actually eat.

Well, those are the basics for now. At the beginning of age 2 your big personality has blossomed in a major way--outgoing, empathetic, social, oppositional, picky, and oh so talkative.

I call you my big boy and you say “Mommy, I big boy” all the time. But when I look at you lying perfectly still in your crib, asleep, I see a chubby cheeked baby boy with tiny hands and tiny feet, swallowed up in a child-sized blanket.

My sweet baby. My big boy. How do I keep you with me?

Trying and Failing

I've wanted to blog for a long time on the unhappy topic of infertility.

It seems like such a plague for my generation.  I've known so many friends who've tried and failed and tried and failed and went through months or years of heart-aching inability to conceive and/or carry to term.

No one tells you that trying to get pregnant in your 30's is hard.  No one tells you that fertility peaks around 20-24 and it's a long, slow but ever steady decline from there.  And if anyone ever were to say these things, they would be pilloried by the media as oppressively misogynistic--trying to keep women barefoot and pregnant and out of the circle of power.

Society tells us to be independent women.  To compete with the boys.  To go to college and grad school.  And then to throw ourselves into brilliant careers because, what the heck was all that schooling for after all?

And then our hearts tell us to make families.  And our bodies try and fail us.

Eventually, most of us do have kids.  But it wasn't/isn't an easy, straightforward path.  Facebook status updates are full of success announcements, but show none of the failures.

For every update that says--there's a bun in the oven!  There are hundreds of unwritten updates that should say--Year 2 of trying, still no bun!  And for every birth announcement, sadly, there are many and more unwritten miscarriage announcements.

And sometimes the first baby is not so hard to come by, but subsequent ones may be much much harder.  I was totally caught off guard when it took 5x longer to conceive this 2nd baby than the first.  I'd never heard of second child infertility until I started googling around for answers.  You always hear that once the fertility spigot has been opened, so to speak, it just keeps comin'!  But if you google that phrase, you'll see that's far from the truth.

Just yesterday a friend told me her 4-year old son is dying to have a sibling and she's been trying forever to get him just that.  My heart totally went out to her.  I could see the conflicted look of pain in her eyes as she noted my belly bump.  A look I know all too well.  I no longer joke with people about their plans for having 2nd kids because you never know how hard or how long they've been trying...and failing.

I hate writing about this topic.  I hate bumping up against the hard realities of natural laws.  And I hate the sour, bitter taste of trying and failing.  But I feel like it's a major diservice to women not to let them know.  To not say something.  Our society already does a heckuva job covering up these hard truths.

May you never be too soon old and too late wise.

P.S. This is a great, but sadly too rare article on a personal fertility crisis from the WSJ.

Why?

This has been another doozy of a week.  Most days I worked 12-15 hours and slept at 1 or 2 am.  But instead of catching some extra zzzzz's I just HAVE to blog about you a little bit.  It's like scratching an itch.  Sigh, the insanity of parenthood.

But I just have to commemorate 2 things you did this week that really surprised me.

First, you went up to your auntie as she was reading a magazine and told her, "I lonely," to indicate that you wanted her to play with you.  What?!  That blows my mind.

How the heck did you ever learn that concept or that word?  I've never ever heard you say the word lonely before (nor do I remember using that word in your presence).  I think maybe your dad uses that word when you cry and says stuff like "Are you sad?  Are you lonely for mommy?"

But even so, I'm so impressed that you could figure out what that abstract concept meant in one context and translate it to another one completely.

Second, you've started to ask "Why?"  Before you always asked "Who that mommy?" (and you used 'who' to indicate the pronouns 'who' and 'what').  Or "How that work mommy?"  Or "Where daddy?"  But a couple days ago you started to get on that never-ending train of asking "Why?"

Just today you asked about the man next door.
"Who that mommy?"
"Our neighbor."
"Why?"
"Because he lives next to us."
"Why?"
"Umm....he...just does."

I was hoping we could avoid the endless strings of 'why' until you were 4 or 5, but nope.  That train has left the station.  Frankly I don't mind explaining things ad absurdum, but how the heck am I supposed to explain something as complicated as 3-4 levels of causality or reasoning to a 2 year old?!

"The sky is blue."
"Why mommy?"
"Because...molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter red light."

Yeah, that's not going to fly.

It's a...

I was carrying lower this time around.

I had much more severe morning sickness and nausea this time.

I did not have an explosion of acne all over me this time.

And I just had this feeling...this one is different...

But, you can't argue with the very prominant penis on the ultrasound screen!

It's another boy!!!!!!

I'm not going to lie, when I saw that boy part pop up on the screen, something in me wilted.  I instantly thought...maybe we should try again...hmmm...

If this is our last one, I'll never get to brush someone's long hair and put her in pretty little dresses, and revel in all those sweet little girl things.

But having another boy is good too, especially for Judah.  I'm excited for him to have a best bud for life (at least I hope they'll get along swimmingly).  And we'll save a ton of money on clothes and toys.  This second guy is going to live in a world of hand-me-downs.  Sorry dude.

I thought the spouse would be really disappointed (more like totally crushed) since he's been wanting a girl ever since the first baby.  But he actually took it very well and was comforting me in the end.

"Look at it this way," he said, "having a boy is great because it negates a major risk..."

"What risk?" I asked completely confused.  Was there some terrible genetic history I don't know about?

"That we'd end up with a girl that looks like me!"

Ha ha ha ha ha.  Yes.  That would be very bad.  Very very bad.  Bless his heart, my husband looks fine as a dude, but my husband in a wig?

Now that's a tough pill to swallow.

Please Make it Stop

Pounding headache.

So so so tired.

For the last 10 days I've been working a grueling schedule--waking up at 4 or 5 am for East Coast conference calls and sleeping at 10 or 11 pm drafting agreements.

This was interrupted by 2 days in the mountains on a retreat.  And while it was awesome, it sucked in terms of rest.  The toddler did not adjust well to being in a new place.  He wanted ONLY mommy to pat him on the back all through the night to help him sleep.  And there was a hunger strike involved.

At the end of the 2 days, Judah was a MONSTER.  Crying and whining about everything all the time.  And of course wanting mommy ONLY.

And from that pleasant scene, I jumped back into the fire of work.  Yesterday I got to the office at 7am and finally put down my pencil at 2am.  Oh my aching head.  And today promises to be another near all-nighter.  AAARGGGHGHHH.

I try to leave the office at a decent time to spend at least 1-2 hours with Judah before his bedtime, but it's clear that he misses me and has turned up his clingy-ness to an all-time epic level.

When it's just the spouse watching him, he is constantly crying and whining for mommy.  He never wakes up after we put him to bed, but he woke up 3 times last night, crying out for mommy.  When I AM around, he insists that I'm holding him constantly.  Poor guy.

I don't know how women can work much more grueling hours than I do.  I feel so bad for Judah and there's no way I can "parent" him properly because I don't want our precious time together to involve tears and conflict.

So I let him eat crap for dinner--chips and gummy bears!  And I let him throw his toys and crayons everywhere, only half-heartedly suggesting that we clean it up.  And yes, I'll do an extra long bedtime routine although this can lead to nothing good down the road in terms of his expectations for the future.

Judah used to have at least 2 or 3 'timeouts' during the day.  He hasn't had a 'timeout' for almost 2 weeks.  And it's NOT because he suddenly sprouted angel wings.

But there is one highlight to my hectic days.

Judah and the spouse call me every evening around 6 pm to ask when I'll be coming home.  And he shouts over the phone loud and clear--I love you mommy!

I love you baby!

The Secret

Remember that think-positive 'religion' that Oprah was touting a few years back--the Secret?

You're supposed to send out positive thought vibrations into the universe and the 'laws of attraction' will make the universe respond by giving you what you want!

Well, I think that's pretty illogical and pure wishful thinking--literally I suppose, ha ha.

But today, I can't help but send out some GIRL vibes.  I've got GIRL on the brain cuz tomorrow morning I get to find out whether we're having a GIRL or not.  I hope it's a GIRL.  I hope it's a GIRL.  I hope it's a GIRL.

GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRL.

That word looks really wierd to me now.

GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRLY, GIRL.

Wow, Girl looks a lot like Grill.

Reminds me of the time the spouse was in 3rd grade and made bookmarks to sell to his classmates.  He decided he needed to 'market' to the girls and made one that was supposed to say "Girls Rule!"

But he actually wrote "Grils Rule!"

Ha ha ha ha ha.

Wait, I don't want to confuse the universe with this line of thought.  Please don't send me a grill.  I want a GIRL. GIRL. GIRL.

Shoot, now I can't stop thinking of grills.  Crap.

Overwhelmed

Life, be not proud.
For you can end at any moment.
At 20-odd weeks, without any signs of warning.
I'm thinking of you, brave friend, as I enter the period of your sudden tragedy.
Thank you for trusting us with your dark hour.

But death, be not proud.
For the perishable will be clothed with the imperishable, and
The mortal with immortality, and
The saying that is written HAS come true:

Death has been swallowed up
Overwhelmed
In victory.

Disclaimer--Sorry for the scare everyone.  This post is not about me, but a friend.

Oh yeah, did I mention...?

This is a little awkward.

So I'll just come out and say it.

Happy news--I'm pregnant!

I'm not sure why I haven't mentioned it on my blog yet but now that I'm almost done with month 5 it seems like high time for it to make an appearance.

Part of not saying anything is that pregnancy is kinda boring. Yeah, there's the awful nausea (which was 10x WORSE this time around than with Judah) and the exhaustion. But other than that...watcha gonna say?

But around month 5 things get reeeeeeeaaaaaaal interesting cuz we get to find out the gender next week! I'm not going to lie--we really really really really REALLY hope its going to be a girl this time. The spouse has ALWAYS wanted a girl and I've always wanted one of each and we're both NOT a fan of having more than 2 kids. So this is kinda it. Our last shot at a sweet baby girl.

How does Judah feel about a baby on the way?

At first I'm not sure he understood what was going on, but lately he's been exhibiting some interesting signs of comprehension.

He often tells people "Baby tummy" and points to my stomach. And he'll often plop down on the couch and say "I tired! Baby tummy." Which is a pretty accurate imitation of what I did when I was explaining why I was too tired to get up off the couch during my entire first trimester.

But last night takes the cake.

I was cuddling with him before bedtime and he said "I want see baby." So I lifted up my shirt and he giggled and said "Hug baby! I love you, baby!" and proceeded to plant kisses on my belly. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

And then he said "Baby bottle" and pretended to give a bottle to my belly and "Baby, massage" and started massaging my belly. Awwwwwwwwwwwwww.

But then the very next morning Mr. Hyde announces "NO BABY! I don't want baby!" and starts to kick furiously in the direction of my tummy.

Complicated feelings, this one.

Birthday Photo Dump

I am so camera/photo-editing-dumb it's embarassing. But this is the best I can do with the rest of the pics we have of your birthday.

Actually we're lucky to even have these pics as my good ol' point and shoot decided to malfunction that day.  What the heck?!  But thank goodness for friends with iphones!  Smart phones, I salute you.

At least we have one lovely high-res photo for the ol' digital scrapbook thanks to our friend with a fancy camera.  I gotta get me one of those babies--look at the amazing photo quality!

Two!

Happy 2nd Birthday Little Man!

Mommy's stuck in a 7+ hour conference call so it's a good thing we celebrated yesterday. 

Birthday boy, church nursery buddies, balloons, and cupcakes!

Incidentally some businessman on the call keeps saying "I'm just going to speak out loud..."  when I know he means he's just going to THINK out loud.  To say he's speaking out loud is completely redundant.  So irksome.  Anywho...

I can't wait to be done with this crazy deal so I can write a monstrous post about you at 2.  You are such a big boy now!

The So-Called Life of a Working Mom

I posted a link to this entry a few months back but thought I should actually put it on my blog as a backup.  If anyone wonders why being a corporate biglaw firm working mom sucks, here you go.  (And keep in mind I probably have one of the cushiest corporate biglaw jobs ever--70% part-time and a very understanding boss.)

The So-Called Life of a Working Mom

So a lot of people have asked me what it’s like to be a working mom.

Actually, that’s not true. No one has asked me that.

But you know, I bet people are somewhat curious. Because when I was considering whether to go back to work after maternity leave, I desperately wanted to know.

What is it like to leave your baby for hours at a time in a stranger’s care? Will you feel sad for missing all the ‘firsts’? Will it weaken the bond between the two of you? Will you be replaced as the most important person in your baby’s eyes?

I especially wanted to know what it would be like for a corporate attorney working mom. My job is notoriously un-plannable.  We are on-call 24-7, 365, resulting in many cancelled vacations and telling my family every year--I might have to miss Christmas, start without me! When a deal is on, it is ON and you work night and day like kids in a sweatshop until the deal is done. If you need to fly out to another coast 3 weekends in a row to bash it out, you do it. Heck, if you need to fly to another continent to bash it out, you do that too.

How could I possibly be a somewhat present mom with a job like that?! On top of it all, I was a nursing Nazi. For some reason, I was fervently attached to the idea that my baby MUST DRINK MY MILK for at least one year. Anything less would feel utterly demoralizing. But let’s just say that high-stress and lactation do not mix. Making milk requires as much psychological conditioning as anything else. And who is going to let you take a pump-break in the middle of a 7 hour client meeting?!

The more I considered these obstacles looming ahead of me, the more I wanted to just throw in the towel and not go back to work. But the ever level-headed spouse reminded me that we really needed my income and it just might not be so bad. Why don’t we give it a try? If it’s really all that bad, I can quit. Anytime.

I looked at my $300 breast pump and thought, that’s going to be the dumbest investment I ever made. I’ll use it for 2 weeks and then quit. Well, it’s been more than a year since I’ve returned to work from maternity leave, so shut my mouth and color me surprised!

So what has it been like?

In a word: exhausting.

If ever in my life I have felt tested and stretched, it was laughably ridiculous compared to the unrelenting strain of working a high-stress corporate job and trying to be as present as possible with a high-need insatiably curious baby.

Being a working mom is like having 2 jobs. No, it IS having 2 jobs. You work all day with the stress and pressures of various project deadlines and then you come home and instead of winding down with a bowl of ice-cream and some Netflix, you jump right into the fire of your second job.

In my second job, the client was much more demanding and unreasonable than any in my corporate job. This client would scream and wail every time I tried to change his diapers, leaving trails of his poop everywhere as he wriggled and writhed. He refused to eat the nutritious food I slaved to make and screamed for crackers and chips. He threw his food on the floor repeatedly. He wanted you to carry his 23 lb body on long walks and screamed and wailed if you so much as hinted that you were going to drop him in a stroller. In fact he wanted to be carried all the time. Hoisted up so he could see the world from a different vantage point. And gesture that he wanted this and that PRONTO.

And finally, after you’ve engaged this little client in an epic bedtime battle and WON, you don’t even get to relish that sweet victory with some ice-cream and Netflix. Nope. You tiptoe out of his room and right to your desk and continue grinding out the mind-numbing draft for your other job. After working the night away, you brush your teeth and hop into bed, hoping and praying that insomnia does not rear its ugly head tonight.

What about the weekends? You don’t get weekends as a corporate lawyer.

So where in this narrative is exercise? Where is meeting up with friends? Where is going out with your hubby? Where are your hobbies? Where is your freaking bowl of ice-cream and next episode of Big Love?

It’s as poignantly absent as your sanity.

After living this kind of “so-called” life for a while, I had an epiphany--a beam of sunlight amidst the foggy clouds. Why don’t I just hire a babysitter and give myself some ME time? It’s worth spending a little cash to get back a little sanity.

And you know what? I can’t.

When I need a break the most, that’s the time I can’t do it the most.

I can’t spend any more time away from my baby.

Maybe everyone has a different equilibrium point after which they are happy to spend time away from their kid. In a given week, I don’t want to spend any more than 30 hours away from my baby. That’s why I work a 70% schedule.

But if work is killing me that week and making me put in 50+ hours, there’s no way in heck I’m going to take precious baby time away and do something for myself.

But I want so desperately to have some me time.

So there you have it. The catch-22 of working moms. Damned (by guilt) if you do make time for yourself. And damned if you don’t. Eventually I start to feel like a rubber band getting stretched way too thin. It seems like only a matter of time before the inevitable snap.

Of course not every working mom is going to feel this beleaguered. Hopefully your job is not as hellacious and/or your child is not so demanding. And I imagine it’s probably a lot easier if you’re one of the lucky gals with loving parents in the vicinity.

But that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it…for now anyway.

We're still hangin' in there...barely...

Simba Happy?

One of the best things about parenting is watching your little helpless lump emerge into a human being with his very own personality.

And oh what a personality!

One of Judah's strongest traits is his interest in other people's emotions.

Judah loves people, especially his nanny's daughter.

Whenever we read books, he's always pointing at various characters and asking if they're happy.  Sometimes they are.  But other times they clearly aren't.

Judah happy?  Heck yes!

There's a scene in the Lion King where Simba is clearly distraught because his dad just died saving his life.  Judah ALWAYS flips to that page and asks "Simba happy?"  And I tell him for the 300th time, "No Judah, Simba is sad because his daddy died."  I know, heavy stuff for a 1 year old!  What were you thinking Disney?

But the funny thing is Judah LOVES maudlin books.  His favorite books and illustrations are the ones with extremely sad emotions.  He even tears up sometimes when we get to the most dramatic parts. 

I'll never forget the first time we read Llama Llama Red Pajama and the momma llama and baby llama re-unite after a traumatizing absence.  I looked at my baby's eyes filling with tears and I thought "Oh my sweet precious boy."

But it doesn't stop me from manipulating his sensitive little soul.

Often times the easiest way to get Judah to comply is to act like I'm really sad.  For example, Judah hates eating.  And after cajoling him proves fruitless yet again, I'll put on a very sad face and say "Judah, mommy sad because you don't eat.  Mommy sad.  Boohoo!"

And sure enough, Judah opens his mouth for a bite and says "Mommy happy?"

Feels kinda wrong, but hey, the kid's gotta eat!

Exhausted

Judah is constantly learning/picking things up from watching me.

One thing he's learned quite well is this:

He'll lie down on the couch or floor and exclaim "I tired!" or even better sometimes "Exhausted!"

Proud mommy moment--my 1 year old knows the word "exhausted"!
Sad mommy moment--my 1 year old knows the word "exhausted" because I'm constantly modeling a lack of energy in front of him.  Ugh.

Oh Judah, if only you'd lie down for more than 0.25 seconds.

What can I say? Most days I AM tired and exhausted!

Debbie Downer

This post is kinda depressing.  There.  You've been warned.

Ugh, I'm so depressed.

I just saw a posting on FB about a 2 year old girl who suddenly died this week.

She ran up to her dad while he was turning around and he tripped over her, causing her to fall backwards and get a major concussion, lots of internal bleeding, and she died a few hours later.

Ugh.

I know another incident of a 2 year old dying.  She was playing outside in her yard and a delivery truck just ran over her because she was in the truck driver's blindspot.  Her mom was on the front porch and watched it all unfold (probably in sickening slow motion).

She ran to pick up her little girl's broken body and cradled her in a blood-soaked blanket until she finally passed away a few minutes later.

I probably know a dozen more stories of babies dying.  In utero, in labor, in the first few months of life, in childhood.  Of diseases and accidents and plain old stupid coincidence.


Please out-live me Judah!

And like some sick movie director--in the place of each of these kids--I cast my own child and imagine him going through the same things they did.  And I put myself in the role of the grief-stricken mother.

I have a vivid imagine.  And I'm an eternal pessimist.

It's a very depressing combination.

It's my own quiet daily self-torture. 

I wonder if I'm the only one that thinks this way?

And to end on a positive note--it's Friday, yay!  Have a great weekend everyone!