Who's The Boss?

Photojournal: Sacramento

woulda, shoulda, coulda

What I should be doing:

Drafting a Plan B and a Plan C for my project plan at work.  Plan A is off the table due to budget constraints and now I have to figure out what we are going to cut/change/keep in order to ensure this project has some success and I still have a job when the acquisition closes. 

What I am doing:

Making the evite invitation for a combo birthday party for Darius and me that is over three months away.  And researching the cost of jumpy houses. 

What I should be eating:

the lunch that I packed two days ago and have forgot to bring both days.  so I guess I should really be eating nothing right now as a punishment for leaving my own darned lunch a home.

What I am eating:

  Lunch of champions.  Diet coke, slice of pizza, and a small salad.  It wouldn't be so bad if this was only day 1 of the pizza-salad diet.  But I'm on day three.  Which also means that I broke my goal of bringing my lunch 4 days a week.  I'd say I was sad, but I've already drowned my sorrows in bread and soda.

Working from home without childcare - a typical working mom's dilemma

Last week, a writer for The Juggle wrote about her recent experience in working from home without childcare. 

For the first three years of returning to work, I demanded that I work from home at least one day a week.  Friday was the planned day.  The entire office knew that I would be working from home and so the volume of issues that I dealt with turned to Monday through Thursday.  Friday became my light day.  I'd have one or two conference calls that I could strategically place during Sesame Street hour or nap time.  I purposely made my workload more administrative for Fridays.  Status reports on projects, submitting expense reports for reimbursement, catching up on the insane amount of email that I received the rest of the week, sending out meeting requests to the team for the following week.  If I didn't get to it on Friday, I could put in a couple hours of work on Sunday night. 

I also learned that TV really isn't the best babysitter.  Sure, Darius religiously watched Sesame Street for the full hour on Friday mornings.  And on hairy days where an emergency did come up, he'd get lucky and get a 30 minute show in the afternoon.  But the bulk of the day was fairly balanced between working remotely, spending quality time with Darius, and encouraging Darius to play on his own.  Mind you, I only have one kiddo to contend with so the journey to "working from home bliss" was probably a million times easier for mom's with 2 or more.

What I learned from those three years:

Carve out time on your calendar for spending 1:1 time with your child.  Afterall, you are working from home for a reason.  And that reason probably includes getting to be around your children.  So actually block out the time.  Darius and I enrolled in a Music Together class on Friday mornings.  It took a hour out of my work day and it was totally worth it to do something special with my son.  By marking it on my calendar, the time was less likely to get hijacked by a meeting or other work activity.

If you want dinner on the table, use a crock pot.  Nothing like throwing a few ingredients into a crock pot at 8am and having dinner ready at 5.  I pulled out the crockpot almost every Friday.  I'd make chili, roasts, pull pork for sandwiches, curry chicken, soups, stews, you name it.  It takes the pressure off of feeling like you've spent the whole day at home and having nothing to show for it.

Plan your work ahead.  My saving grace was that everyone knew I was working from home.  It helped to keep the workload manageable.  At work, I always kept one eye focused on the horizon.  A two to four week forecast to make sure that project deadlines and schedules were not going to impact my Friday with Darius.  Sometimes it did.  But having the unexpected crisis became rare.  In addition, I think I became a better Project Manager by keeping one focus on what happening today and the other on what was coming down the pipe. 

Encourage your child to play on their own.  You may have to work up to this slowly, but if you are working from home it's a must.  I'll admit that I had to let go of my own anxiety about not watching him for every single minute.  But I set up shop in our playroom.  Darius could play with trains, the little kitchen set, have wrestling matches with his stuffed animals.  All on his own.  I was there, but kept a distance.  I started working in 15 minute chunks.  15 min with Darius playing on his own, 15 min with me playing with him.  Every week, I extended his free play by 5 minutes.  20 minutes, then 25, then 30.  I kept my 15 minutes of quality play time the same. 

Don't fall into the trap of doing it all.  You cannot work, be with your kids, and do everything else.  Dishes won't get done.  Laundry will stay unsorted.  And that's ok.  Your priority on those days is literally be a working momma.  That's what you are balancing.  Not trying to fit everything into the day's schedule.

And finally, fake it. No one in the office needs to know that you are wearing sweats with smooshed bananas on them.  Don't make any excuses for working from home. You are just as professional and fabulous as you are when you are in the office. 

Oh, and don't forget to use the mute button when ever you're on a call. 

Totally worth the $80 ticket

My dad's Christmas gift to the whole family. Darius was mesmerized for the entire two and half hour show. I spent just as much time watching the performers as I did watching the look on my son's face. Pure amazement. Pure fascination.  It was simply spectacular.

The best part was during the pre-show. Cirque had some clowns and performers come out into the audience; partly to get people into their seats and partly to get the excitement building before the show started. A clown was making balloon animals and spotted Darius in the audience. He came over and ...

Clown: What is your favorite animal?

Darius: A monkey!

Clown: Well, you are in luck. You are going to get a very special monkey.

Darius: giggles

Clown: [twisting balloon into shape] This monkey is very special.  It's a monkey that looks like a dog!

And sure enough, he handed Darius a green balloon in the shape of a dog. 

Best night. Ever. 

The nightmare of pumping

The one thing I hated when I returned to work from maternity leave was pumping at the office.  The company I worked for at the time actually had pretty nice "Nursing Rooms" for the working moms.  I always found it a little strange that they called them "nursing rooms" since there wasn't onsite childcare or babies that we were nursing.  Oh no.  We were pumping.  Two partitions in each room.  One room in each of the four buildings.  When I returned to work, there were five other nursing mothers in my building.  We actually kept a mini schedule so that we didn't go to the room when the spaces were already filled.

I hated pumping for a dozen different reasons.  Partly because it feels very inhuman and awkward.  Nursing was natural.  Pumping was just weird.  The clean-up afterwards was always a pain.  Wiping down all the parts.  Trying to be discreet about the bottles of breastmilk in the re-usable lunchbag in the community fridge.  Having to explain to idiot men that the bag wasn't another laptop without wanting to shout at them "I still breastfeed my kid and this is BREAST PUMP!" 

But the biggest reason I hated pumping was that I just didn't have the time at work to pump.  Carving out 20-30 minutes in the morning and afternoon was nearly impossible.  I remember on more than one occasion trying to discreetly hold in my swollen breasts during a meeting - silently praying that I wasn't going to start leaking.  Oh boy, wouldn't that have be awkward.  More awkard than answering the "You have two laptop bags?" question. 

So when I stumbled across this experiment from Dad Labs, I nearly fell off my chair. They prove that pumping is no fun.  I totally agree.  Any mother that pumps deserves a medal of honor.  I'll take my superhero cape in Caribbean Blue, please.

Photohunt: Wooden

This week I thought it was only appropriate to showcase Darius' love of Thomas the Train.  Most days, the wooden trains and tracks are scattered all over the play room floor.  Putting together a complicated track that connects and routes all over is a nightly challenge for me.  I'm not always the most gracious in allowing D to help, either.  I often cringe while telling him to move out of the way when I'm trying to figure out a complex connection.  Well cringe on the inside.  Because it certainly doesn't stop me from taking over.  Who knew that I'd have more fun putting the track together? 

Once the track is together, D lines up nearly every train he has to made the "world's longest train."  It's quite fun to watch as he carefully select each train and their order. 

Tonight, we are going to ride a real train up to Sacramento to visit with Neville's twin brother.  I can't wait to see Darius get wide eyed and bushy tailed over the train station, riding a real train, and then getting to visit with his uncle.   It's going to be a fabulous trip!

Preschool Report Card

When signing Darius out of preschool a few weeks back, I noticed an envelope in his cubby.  His teacher had finished the mid-year assessment, a "performance review" of sorts for the three year old set.  Her assessment of my only child was in. 

Honestly, I find the whole thing a little over the top. I mean do three year olds really need to be assessed?  My kid seems fine.  He’s talkative, but has a few shy tendencies.  He loves to throw a baseball and play in the sandbox.  He’ll pass on coloring and art almost every day of the week.  He’s not that interested in eating.  And he won’t ever sing when he knows people are watching him.  Is all seems pretty typical to me. 

His teacher’s assessment of him was on par with what I know, as his mother, to be his strengths and weaknesses.  But the mere fact that someone other than me (or his father or doctor) got to make a formal assessment of him and have that go into his file and perhaps change perceptions of him, I don’t like it.  I’ll admit that I’m having a slight mama-bear reaction about the whole thing.

When we searched for preschools, I was fairly certain on having a play-based school.  My child has plenty of time to sit at a table and do worksheets.  He has plenty of time to learn his alphabet and read and write and spell his name.  He has plenty of time to grow-up.  And I didn’t want to be in an environment where children were praised for their academic achievements at three.  I wanted my child to go to a school where he was encouraged to build relationships, play outside for hours, and be a kid.  A little three year old kid.

But now with that assessment sitting next to my laptop, I’m feeling pressured.  Pressured to “fix” those things that we don’t focus on.  Pressured to start him on the academic road.  Pressure that if I don’t, then he is going to start kindergarten with a disadvantage.  I don’t want to pressure my son into feeling that, at three, we have tremendous expectations of him.  He’s a good kid.  He’s a really, good kid.  He listens well.  He minds his manners.  He has lots of friends and talks well with adults.  So what if he forgets the number four every time he counts to ten.  Or calls twenty “two-teen.” 

I have to sign the assessment and return it to his teacher tomorrow.  But all I really want to do is tear it up and throw it in the trash.  I wasn’t ready for a preschool report card.  Of course the goodie two-shoes in me will sign it and return it on time.  And maybe I’ll suggest to him nicely that art really isn’t all that bad.  But without pressure… 

Silent

I have something to say, really, I do.  But I have lost my voice.  Literally. 

For the last two days, I've either sounded like Pee Wee Herman or drag version of Eartha Kitt.

   

Yeah, I'm that cool.  Or, not.

I'm off to the doctor.  Which thanks to crappola insurance, is someone I've never seen before even though my previous doctor had 7 years of my history, all thanks to the old doc no longer in my plan and it will cost a hundred flipping dollars to see her.  Uh, no thanks.  I'm not gonna pay $100 to have my old doc tell me its a virus and there is nothing I can do besides wait to get better.  Hey isn't that what every doctor says, or is it just mine? And, yes, I realize that when you only see your doctor once every three years that the "history" you complain about is really only three visits. 

But I'm grumpy.  And I can't bitch about it because it hurts too much to talk.

I'm just hoping that this voice issue corrects in 24 hours.  I have to kick off my new project tomorrow and I don't want to sound like pre-pubescent teenage boy whose voice cracks.  Really, that's not the look I'm going for at this new job.

So please pray to the God(esses) that the new doc can either give me a magic pill or that I wake up in the morning with a voice of an angel.

  A girl can dream, right?

Photohunt: Free

I was going through some of our old photos this week and found a cute set of Darius and his daddy wrestling around in our old house.  Nothing like free entertainment watching a father and son duke it out on the carpet.  What the camera didn't catch was a the unethical head-on move that Darius pulled on his dad - sending them both to the kitchen for ice and subsequent black eyes.

Always the bridesmaid...

On this day of love, Valentine's Day, and because I love you all so much... I share with you bridesmaid photos.  I wish that I had photos of my other weddings past, but most of those happened before digital cameras became mainstream and I just don't got the time to break out the scanner.  So these are from the recent Fall wedding of one of my best friends, Holly. 

The girls watching Holly walk down the aisle. 

From left to right: Candice, Me,  Allison, April

The ladies - having a fabulous time at the reception.  I was 2.5 hours away from home, and was without child for an entire weekend.  Needless to say, I partied it up like we were back in college.

More college friends.  And our beautiful bride, Holly.   We met when Holly was randomly placed in my on-campus apartment my senior year in college and her sophmore.  Ever since Holly is like a kid sister to me.  It was a little weird to see her all grown up and getting married.  I still remember her poster of N'Sync on her wall in college.

And finally, drunk girls who think they look cool by making stupid model-diva faces at the camera. 

Yes, that is me thinking "I'm so cute holding my plastic cup of beer to my chin" and making a diva face during the after-party.  I didn't make it into bed until around 3am. 

Fairy tales do come true...

On Sunday, we had the wonderful opportunity to go to an event hosted by Disneyland.  It was an exclusive event for the families of the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog; the blog that reconnected me with my passion for writing (and that I love, love, love writing for).  When I had received the invite a few weeks back, I thought to myself "this is just going to be some marketing pitch that won't be any fun."  Disney had me eating my words about three seconds from walking in the door at the University Club in Palo Alto. 

As we were greeted, each family received Mickey ears and an autograph book for each child.  There were going to be special guests at the party!  But none of the Disney staff would even give a hint to who was coming.  So we walked over to the kid room to wait for the characters to arrive - and where I silently prayed that Mickey be one of them since I had played him up and even used his upcoming appearance as a tactic to get Darius to behave.  If he didn't show, I was toast.  As you can see in the photo above, Mickey was there and Darius stared at him with awe and disbelief for about 20 minutes.

Luckily for me, we had plenty of other activities to keep us entertained.  Darius ended up with a small collection of Disney-themed Mr. Potato Head parts.  He decorated an Enchanted Castle cookie (note to Disney: please save all cookie related activities until after kids have an opportunity to eat!).   He watched the older boys play a Ratatouille video game.  I also stole scored twenty sheets Cars themed temporary tattoos which will be in the goodie-bags for Darius' race car themed birthday party (yes, it's like 4 months away, but when's there's a deal you have to act on it!).  But the biggest win for Darius is one that he doesn't even know about.  Disney had a sketch artist that drew favorite Disney characters and personalized them for your child.  For D's fourth birthday, he'll be getting a framed sketch of Mickey with his autograph and personalized message to D.  It was almost worth standing in line for nearly 40 minutes.

My little guy had such a wonderful time.  Beyond wonderful.  It was magical.  But as a mommy-blogger, who according to the Marketing and PR execs, were the ones they were really trying to reach, I was left a little perplexed to the purpose of the night.  Not a single Disney staffer talked to me, no one reached out to hear my opinion, I'm not even sure what my opinion was supposed to be.  In fact, I didn't see them talking to any of us moms. We heard a two minute pitch about Disneyland's theme of a Year of a Million Dreams that kicks-off next month.  But what else you got, Disney? 

I guess my point is that I walked in with the expectation that it would be all marketing pitch and no fun.  I walked out with a lot of fun and no real pitch.  Perhaps that was the intent of the night?  So I challenge the folks over at Disney....

Disney folks: next year we plan on going to Disneyland with twenty-five of our friends and family to celebrate my son's 5th birthday and my dad's 60th. Help this mommy-blogger out by giving us some awesome deals and a special party!  You did say it was a year of a million dreams.... help make this dream come true.

Stay Tuned

This week is my first nasty week at work.  I'm in an offsite meeting for three days that will start before 8am and end after 6pm; making my work/life balance pretty shi-tay since Neville also had grad school mid-terms this week.  Plus I have a detailed project plan due by my manager at 3pm today - and I'm only about 25% done.  Yeah, it's gonna be a real fun day.  One of those days that you seriously reconsider eating or even going to the bathroom since that will take precious minutes away from your day that you just don't have. 

I have eighty-million posts in draft mode (alright, it's more like seven), but none are quite ready to go up just yet.  But instead of writing something worth reading, I'm bitching about the fact that after two months of having it pretty easy, I finally have to start working again.   cue violin and elephant tears

To make sure that you darlin' readers don't leave me, here's a tease with what I'll hopefully be posting this week:

• Recap of a fanstastic night for the SV Mom blog hosted by Disney! I even have pictures of the first 15 minutes before the camera batteries died.
• Photos of me as a bridesmaid (by my count, this is dress #5).  I love the fact that I'll be a bridesmaid and never the bride.  Having a domestic partnership rocks! - especially when that means I'll never have to plan a wedding.
• Something snarky.  Because I'm feeling rather sassy this week, and you all deserve me to go off on something since you've now endured this bomb.

Photohunt: Heavy

When Darius was born, he weighed a healthy 8lbs 7oz.  I had seriously injured my back in the labor process, tearing my lower left back muscles away from my spine and spent 12 weeks in physical therapy.  Those 8.5 pounds of baby felt like carrying a 50 pound bowling ball.   Boy did I think he was heavy.

By two months, he had doubled his birth weight.  With therapy improving my back, it was more like carrying around a sack of potatoes.

Yesterday, Darius asked to be picked up.  I agreed but only for a few minutes.  At nearly four, he weighs 35 pounds.  He's totally an average kid.  But he turned to me with pride and said "I'm so heavy now, momma.  You can't carry me for long." 

To which I replied "My child, you have always been heavy to me."

brown bagging

When I started this new job two weeks ago, I had a clear personal work-life goal in mind. I decided that I was going to bring my lunch

I’ve tried this in the past and always bitterly failed (ok, it isn't at all bitter when that brown bag is replaced by the best hummus, or the freshest sushi or the all star company).Too many work friends to socialize with or feeling like if I didn’t get away for the one hour that I wouldn’t make it through the day. Besides, I belonged to the best lunch club ever.  And if you tell them that you brought your lunch, they'll look at you with horror and disbelief as if you had just told them that you had a flesh eating virus.

But there is no fun lunch club here.  And I'm not hiring for replacements. So I decided to reinstate the rule. My goal: bring my lunch 4 days a week. The dollars saved are being used to pay for our brand spanking new housekeeper. And I’m thinking that will be my on-going motivation. Clean floors will reign supreme over sushi!

Plus I still have one day a week to socialize with my new co-workers by going out to lunch.

Or maybe I'll meet up with my old buds for Dim Sum.  That is, if they'll still have me.

replacement

Since leaving ye old company, a few of my co-workers have made it their mission to replace me.  And probably not in the way that you think...

Go read about the open requisition in the Lunch Club.

Neil says that he's offering 10grand as a finder's fee.  But I wouldn't trust him.  The man can never remember if you owe him money or if he owe's you. 

7am conference calls suck

I have a new standing weekly meeting at 7am.  Seven o'clock in the frickin morning.  On a Monday.  need I say more???

I've had my fair share of 7am conference calls in my career.  Working on global programs means that I have early calls with Europe and late calls with China.  I know I should be thanking my lucky stars that I don't have to be in the office at 7am. 

When you are a working momma, sometimes it is easier to go into the office than try to balance a VIP conference call with a hectic morning schedule.  But when that would mean getting up a 5:45am on a Monday morning, well, you decide to gamble and take the risk of overthrowing your delicate work/life balance for one extra hour of sleep. 

Then as your toddler runs around refusing to put on pants, you've burned the toast not once but twice, and you're trying to sound really, really calm and professional on the conference call meanwhile keeping yourself on mute for the bulk of the call so that your co-workers don't hear you speak in your mean-momma voice about "putting on pants right this very minute. now. now. NOW."

See.... all proof that 7am conference calls suck.

Photohunt: Narrow

This week's hunt is dedicated to Neville's Uncle Pete.

Pete was involved in a very serious car accident on January 8, 2008 on his way to work in Missouri. He was hit head-on by an oil tanker during a rain storm.  He narrowly escaped death.  The majority of the bones in his left side are broken (or shattered) and he will have to undergo numerous surgeries to correct the bones in his leg and arm. He also has 4 broken ribs, collasped left lung and fractured vertebrae but no spinal cord injuries.

By the Grace of God, there were no head, neck, nor major internal injuries. He has a lot of underlying medical conditions that have come into play.  He is still in the ICU and is not out of the woods just yet.  His doctors are estimating his stay in the hospital to be well over 6 months before he'll be able to go home.

With prayers from everyone and a firm belief in God, he will win this battle.  We love you Uncle Pete and you are in our thoughts and prayers!