There was a point in time about two months ago where I made a decision not to go on a business trip because I didn’t have to, and things would be so much easier at home if I didn’t go.
I passed on a golden opportunity to shine in front of senior management so that I could help my husband set up my son’s ginormous plastic kitchen. The moment I made that decision, I felt the weight of all the mommy guilt I’ve ever known lifted off of my shoulders and I was as happy as I’ve ever been since I had my son.
I knew then that the working thing just wasn’t going to work anymore.
There also was a point in time two days ago, after having SpaghettiO’s hurled at me (I experienced a whole new meaning to “uh oh, SpaghettiO’s”), when I read a client e-mail that said, “too bad you’re leaving us, we’re really going to miss you” and thought, “what the hell did I just do?”
The working thing wasn’t working anymore, but would the stay-at-home mom thing work better?
I think so. But if you’re neurotic and nervous like me you can never know if you’re making the “right” decisions. All I could do, I told myself, was weigh all the options (including not being able to buy everything on winter sale right now) and do what my gut told me. That I want to retreat from corporate America and stay home with my son.Â
With no regrets.
Some people may think I’m making a huge mistake. Others may peg me as part of the opt-out revolution, just wasting my hard-earned degrees. I’m going to think of myself as semi-retired. Taking an extended honeymoon from conference calls, deadlines (of the client imposed kind), performance reviews, management headaches and just about anything that forces me to dial in, strategize, plan or “noodle.” (G-d I HATE that last word.)
Instead, in my retirement, I’m going to put on makeup when I want to, eat breakfast with my son every morning, hang out at Gymboree and catch up on the latest style of sneakers (how’s that for stereotyping!?) I’m going to figure out how to fill my days with playdates, home cooking, story time and lots of cuddling. I’m hoping I can turn around my son on that last one. He’s not so into cuddling.
I’m not going to wither away into Wisteria Lane, though. I’ve still got a few things up my sleeve. But I’m going to say no to the distractions that were making me feel that I was doing neither the mom nor the work thing well. I’m going to stop juggling, and balancing, and doing whatever it is that was barely keeping my head above water for the last 17 months. And the thing is, as I enter my last day as a working mom, I feel more optimistic about my future career plans, whatever they are or aren’t, than I ever have.Â
I know that I’m extremely lucky and fortunate and blessed to have this opportunity and I’m not going to take it for granted. I’m going to seize it and channel my inner Bree Van de Kamp. No! I’m not setting performance goals for myself anymore. I’m just going to be me. Mom of a toddler, wife of a lawyer.Â
With no regrets.
Tags: Feminine Mistake, opt-out revolution, working mom, SAHM, work-life balance
Santa looks like he threw up in your office lobby…
‘Tis the season to be tacky.
Your coworkers bring flat irons to work so they can do their hair…
On the fourth night of Christmas my true love gave to me a flat iron instead of a Japanese perm.
And leave clumps of makeup on the counter after primping themselves…
Squint and you’ll see lots of bronzing powder.
You know you’re a mom faking it at the office holiday party when…
You eat leftover goldfish out of a snack trap on the way to the shindig…
Goldfish. It’s the perfect prelude to a glass of Pinot.
And leave 30 minutes later to put your son to bed…
You thought I’d really take a photo of that sacred moment?
Happy Holidays. And if you were the one to get sloppy drunk with your coworkers and have a hangover tomorrow I’m jealous.
This blog post on whether pregnancy (or working motherhood) is a liability really caught my eye. Based on a response to the allegations that Bloomberg LP demoted female employees after they announced their pregnancy, the post’s author, BusinessWeek writer Lauren Young, questions whether or not being pregnant or returning from maternity leave inhibits your ability to move up the corporate ladder.
She thinks it does and so do I.
I am not the same worker that I was before I had my son.
I don’t hide in the working mom “closet” pretending everything is alright on the homefront.  I can’t stay late in the office every night to finish up work (that’s what going online at 8 pm is for!) I’m working at home more than I’m not because I have some crisis to monitor, and when I should be writing a communications plan I’m usually texting my nanny to see when my son went to bed.
My head’s not in the game lately and it’s costing my team.Â
I’m trying to make it all work, but I realize in my head that my priorities have shifted. I’m not the breadwinner and don’t want to be. So when push comes to shove and there’s an emergency at home or an emergency at work, guess where I’ll be?
My new boss should have inherited the old me – dilligent worker, top of her game all the time, going the extra mile.
Instead, she’s been saddled with a neurotic mother of a one-and-a-half-year-old trying pretty fruitlessly to make what others deem “the perfect balance” work.  This is definitely something a Band-Aid can’t fix. And I hope to g-d she has an insurance plan. Because I could be liable to do something crazy one of these days and just walk away from the scene of the crime.
Tags: Business Week Working Parents, Bloomberg LP lawsuit
I showed you what was in mine, so I think it’s only fair I get to see what you all are collecting in your offices. Especially because I’m working in a remote office this week and am feeling a little lonely without that trusty Handspring CD. Plus, I got a huge kick about this post and the response about a similar repository of “stuff,” and I thought it would be fun to see what is in your drawers. Office drawers, that is.
So post on your blogs what you’ve got in your workspace and link to me so I can see it. Then I’ll aggregate it all. And then we can all laugh at the junk we’re keeping away from our kids’ grubby hands. C’mon it’ll be fun.
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What you’re hiding from your coworkers:
Nataly’s cafe hideaway
Robyn’s file organizer
WkSocMom’s tsotchke
So a higher-up at work stopped by yesterday to tell me that I’m moving offices some time in the next few weeks. Normally, this would have brought on intense annoyance. I hate moving. I hate packing, and especially hate unpacking. With 3 1/2 years of clutter around me, I really don’t feel like coming in on a day off (which, of course, is how most moves take place) to shlep my crap down the hall just because someone said “we’re running out of space and Sally has to work on the floor.” I mean, seriously, can’t I get a better excuse here?
But instead of annoyance I received the message with a sly grin. Why, you ask? Well, well! It’s because I’m trading my stylish closet office for a grand palace with windows. Having an interior office is such a tease. Yes, I have a place where I can shut the door on sick coworkers, but I am constantly reminded that I haven’t quite achieved greatness a window view yet.
A room with no view.
Which brings out a bigger issue. Why do windows make me giddy with glee? Could it be my proposed new view of Chicago’s fine south side?
I’m so important with my new bad-ass view.
Or the fact that I get to make the movers bring me my file cabinets which shhh… aren’t really filled with anything important after all?
Three years of work and all I have to show are some lousy trash bags.
Oh, how I’m loving moving up in the world.Â
Tags: office, office spaces, cubicles, Chicago
