crazedparent

Just another day in the battle...

The day before the first official "team gathering" for my new gig, Q. comes down with a a cough and runny nose. It progresses to a fever. He is up all night crying, achy breaky, talking in his sleep. He comes into our bed at 5 a.m. to cuddle, still sporting the raging fever.

I have a photo shoot a few hours later and am consumed by thoughts of my little guy home sick. I'm used to being the caregiver -- it feels odd not being home to offer snuggles and love. This week is about Murphy's Law. An "it never fails" moment where mama has a can't-be-missed agenda and her little one gets the worst. bug. ever.  With a little pout and "I want Maaaaaaaama" thrown in for good measure.

I thank my good fortune at having a husband who can work from home in a pinch when our kids are sick and I need to go into the office. 

I throw myself to the mercy of the Airborne queens and kings, begging for the rest of the family to be spared of this nasty little illness.

And I say a most special prayer for the makeup artist who rocks the eye concealer to hide my dark circles after a late night.

Slash/Mom: new beginnings...

Today marked the the start of a new job. A new chapter in my slash/mom life. I can't dish details (yet), but it has me in a tailspin of excitement. (And Maya's Mom peeps, no worries. I'll still be conjuring up wicked featured journal topics and challenges for you.)

While I will continue to work from home, I had to attend a new employee orientation this morning -- something I haven't done in nearly seven years. In my pre-kid days. Back then, I arrived to a new employee orientation in a newly purchased red leather jacket from Florence, new shoes from Siena, and fresh off the plane from a two-week romantic vacation in Tuscany.

This time, I still had the digme attire. That casual-writer-style look with my geeked out glasses. I was trying to play it cool. Polished, professional yet my independent, freelance self. But I had a diaper in my purse. Q. crumbs on my sweater that remained unnoticed until mid-way through the morning. And dog drool on my pant leg.

I stood in line waiting to get the employee badge I will rarely have to use. About 15 people stood behind me. I checked my email on my iPhone and dropped it back in my purse. And then I heard the faint sound of music. A ringtone? No.

Andy Z.

I pulled out my iPhone and realized that somehow I accidentally brushed the screen and turned on the iPod component. I frantically tried to turn off the sound as Andy Z's voice boomed: "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!"

"It's for my sons," I explained with my embarrassed giggle. "Andy Z....kid's  tunes."

Everyone laughed and we continued our wait. A few minutes later, the young, 20-something gentleman behind me began whistling. The tune? Uh huh. You guessed right.

"I'm so sorry. You're going to have that song stuck in your head all day."

"It could be worse," he answered and continued to whistle.

He was right. It could have been the Wonderpets.

Diving in: the fog lifts, Lent hurts and I need space...

The pool was misty today with a thick layer of fog rolling off of the top. Besides making me pull my goggles off every two minutes to try and clear off the haze (it didn't exist), I had a difficult time seeing my trainer as he waited for me at the other end of the lane. He'd call out instructions and pep cheers to get me to the other side. Unlike my son, who yells "Mom, come ON! Swim faster! I'm waiting for you!" Little shiz.

The fog lifted, the sun came out and my fins came off. I can officially swim the freestyle without the assistance of my water feet. I won't let the fact that I have to take a two minute break when I hit the wall spoil my excitement. I can swim!

I'll still be using my fins for training but it's thrilling to know that I don't need them (just like I don't need coffee. Day three without, if you're counting). Next week I start the backstroke and some insanity called egg beaters, you know, so I can stay afloat in the deep end now that I'm not scared of deep, dark, freaky water.

Today's also the first Friday of Lent and Six insists that we observe the "no meat" policy. We're hitting our favorite taqueria for dinner to celebrate a few things and while the boys can enjoy the seafood, I will settle for a veggie mix of some sort. But I'll be crying inside while I miss a taco filled with carnitas.

And finally, my new closet workspace project is killing me softly. As I attempt to get organized I become overwhelmed with the sheer volume of pack-rat-like stuff I've kept...artwork, momentos from my boys over the years, and stuff that I generally just can't bare to part with (yet). I'm on a mission this weekend to purge. I'm following some guidelines outlined by BongaMom but trying not to overdo it. I don't want to regret tossing tangible memories away. Advice anyone?

We're also getting crafty this weekend as Six and I finish up his Valentine's Day Crayon Project. Photos to come.

Adventures of a Slash/Mom...

Remember the phrase Slash/Mom? I came up with it one year ago to classify, well, every single mom.

I'm starting a new series at JobMom called "Adventures of a Slash/Mom." Read today's story and you can found out what I call the working mom's version of "don't ask, don't tell."   

What i dig about being a slash/mom...

The thing about being a slash/mom is that when you're in the stay-at-home-mom mode, isolation occurs. I'm not a huge fan of filling my day with playdates and errands and what-not because I'm okay with being just with my boys much of the time (I kinda' dig it, actually). But as a writer, I need white nose. I need a buzz in the background. Even with headphones and the music of a muse trickling into my ears, I like being around people when I write. Many a late night are spent at the kitchen table across from the hubs tapping away at the keyboard. Oddly enough, we play the same modern game as my book editing partner and his lovely wife.

So back to the topic at hand...What do I dig about being a slash/mom?

The ability to have the grandparents babysit for a few hours so I can hide at my local cafe (I've managed to show my face -- but not my bra -- again) and get some work done. To write. To complete a work of art. All while sipping an Italian soda and listening to three older gentlemen strum their acoustic guitars at the able next to me. It just doesn't get any better. (Well, unless one of the older gentlemen were a certain musician that I also dig.)

What's on your list of favorites as a slash/mom? And what's your perfect writing space?

One last thing on the mommy wars...

So I vowed to myself that I wouldn't write anything else about the so-called mommy wars but I read something over the weekend that begged me to address it. Wendy Sachs, author of How She Really Does It and a participant in the crazedparent five (remember those?), wrote a post last week about her almost appearance on Good Morning America. Apparently the producers contacted her to participate in an on-air debate about mommy wars based on the the new book. Wendy's definitely a slash/mom and absolutely supports moms who work outside the home. After a series of prep interviews, the producers decided not to include her in the debate...largely because they realized she was a freelancer and didn't leave her house to go to an office. Didn't have a "real" boss, no 401K, you get the drift.

Wendy writes:

"So I had narrowly passed their feminist litmus test but now I apparently wasn’t working hard or typically enough. As GMA staged a debate, they were looking for a stereotype, and I didn’t fit the image."

Most folks know that television debates are set up for confrontation and ratings - it's all about stirring the pot. But to have someone like Wendy Sachs get turned down from a discussion about  stay at home moms versus working moms - to witness first hand GMA's attempts to blatantly create hostility, confrontation and disagreement between moms - is so terribly disturbing.  Yet, it also thrills me to no end because it's concrete evidence of one simple thing: the portrayal of the mommy wars is an illusion.

Slash/mom...

Since I quit my former day job a few months back, I've been having trouble with this whole labeling thing that comes with being home with your kids. I stay at home, but I also work from home. I work from home alot - basically any moment the kids are asleep. And then I do everything else associated with being a stay at home mom, except cleaning bathrooms. I leave that for Noah Drake (even doctors have to clean bathrooms).

If I were a true "stay at home" mom, let's face it - it's still work: taking care of your kids and running a household is a shitload of chaos.

I get irritated when people need to classify moms - and dads for that matter - into one bucket. You're either one or the other. How could you possibly be more? You're either a stay at home mom/dad, a work from home mom/dad, a stay at work mom/dad. But what if you're like me - an insane mix of all of the above. Just because I work from home it doesn't mean I have a nanny taking care of my kids. I just work around their nap schedules. And late at night. I have employers, I have clients. I still have a foot in the door in the corporate realm. And I know I'm not the only mom who's doing this.

I've decided to come up with my own label for what I am: a slash/mom. It covers stay at home/work from home/stay at work MOM. Everything is a slash. It's the only way you can capture what you do.

But in the end it doesn't really matter what's in between the slashes. They all add up to the same thing.

I'm a mom...and then some.