Horrible Bosses

I'd like to say that we didn't watch television this past week, but that would be a blatant lie and not nearly as interesting.  We'll get back to that.

One of  my friends from high school posed an interesting question to me last week on the book of face.  She said that at a recent social gathering a few people had asked her what she did.  She responded that she stays home with her daughter and apparently received a few eye rolls.  Now, this particular high school friend(who played a mean saxophone if I recall) is an attorney as well as a mom.  Her husband suggested that she lead with attorney and then say that she's staying home with her daughter right now.

Okay, really people?  Does staying at home with your child really necessitate an eye roll?  Uh-oh, here comes my rant...

I realized when she posed this that I often lead with the fact that I am an attorney but that I'm currently staying home with my children.  For whose benefit am I providing this information?   Is it me?  Am I ashamed of my status of homemaker (and I make a mean home)?  Do I lead with my credentials because I think raising children isn't a legitimate job?  I'm not sure what I think, but this is definitely a subconscious/self-conscious thing that I do. 

The bottom line is that staying home with your children is a job.  It's a big, tiring, smelly, sticky(at times), thankless, wage-less job.  Think about it this way:  when your boss yells at you, does he ever get mad enough to vomit?  Do you have to change your co-workers' diapers?  Do all of your colleagues speak a foreign language for which there is no translation?  Do they demand things of you all day in said foreign language?  Do you spend literally all day every day with them?     

Sidebar:  I am not discounting or dismissing the real stress that any job can cause.  Whatever you do, I'm sure you get stressed.  This is merely my comparison of my current job to my previous employment experiences.

Back to my rant.  If you answered "no" to any of the above, then let me tell you, I'd trade jobs with you for at least an hour every day.  Unless you work for my former boss.  I'm pretty sure at least one of the above applies to him. 

So if motherhood and raising children is this difficult then why do I feel the need to qualify my responses to "what do you do?" with an addendum that lists my work experience and how many letters follow my name?  The only possible answer can be, "it's not you, it's me."  It's me that while I stand with diaper bag on shoulder and sippy cup in hand at story time, feels the need to say:  "I'm actually an attorney and an adjunct professor.  I choose to stay home with my children."  It's not like anyone has ever responded with: "Oh, well since you said that I won't decide immediately that you are _____."  (Insert anything here, i.e. uneducated, traditionalist, controlled, backwards, etc, I could keep going.)  I guess this is what I'm afraid of.  

The funny thing is that I don't think those things about my friends who also stay home with their children.  I admire most of them.  They're a bunch of crafty, creative, caring, intelligent, ambitious women who decided to stay home with their kids.  I actually have an in-law that is a rocket scientist...yeah, like a real rocket scientist.  She works from home, too.  Does she have these same issues?  Does she say I'm a mom and a rocket scientist?  Do rocket scientists actually call themselves that?  These are the pressing issues of my day. 

The more I blog, the more I realize that I may be, in fact, a lunatic.  Oh I could claim that I don't care what other people think about me, my children, my parenting, etc.  But I do.  Sometimes more than others but honestly, I usually care enough to have those after-the-fact conversations with myself in the car where I say something really clever in response to that bitchy remark.  Beyond that though, I guess I'm not losing sleep (well, no more sleep than you lose when you have a baby who thinks you're an all-night buffet).

I'm challenging myself from this point forward to tell only half of the truth when asked what I do.  The truth is that I am an attorney and adjunct professor.  I'm also a mom and proud of it.  If that's not good enough for the people asking, well they can politely dismiss themselves from my presence.  Until then, I'll save my teething, temper tantrum and diaper stories for someone who cares or can at least relate.

So...TV...yeah, this past week wasn't so great for the non-TV viewing.  Claire has been sick for a few weeks and I decided that she needed a true day of rest.  I set her up on her tiny Sesame Street couch with Sprout, her blanket, her doll and a sippy of milk.  What do you know, she got bored with it.  Well, until Caillou came on then I don't think she even breathed for 20 minutes.  I've also discovered that the little one (little as in age, she's actually quite a chunk of baby cuteness) is just as enthralled by television.  Great, let's start 'em young.  I have to say though, that Sprout is the lesser of all the television evils out there.  I watched a bit of Nickelodeon this weekend and thought surely I'd taken some sort of hallucinogen.  Scary. 

 

A mid-week post...don't get used to this

First, I wanted to direct you all to my friend Sarah's blog, La Casa di Frigerio.  She asked me to write a guest post about imperfect parenting.  Being an expert on the topic, I was obliged to do so.  Warning:  my post is about my breastfeeding failures.  So if the words boob, nipple or breast bother you then don't read the post but do check out the rest of her blog.  She's super smart and witty as hell.  I often have to grab my thesaurus when we talk or I just nod like I know what she's saying.

Second, I had to share my experience from the park: 

Today, because it's still 70 degrees outside for some bizarre reason, I took the girls to the park.  There is a lovely park here that is full of mature trees and encircles a lake.  It has paved walking trails and several separate play structures.  We like to park the car and walk the trail loop hitting both playgrounds and hopefully wearing out a certain little girl. 

I don't often go by myself with an infant and a very brave 20 month old, but sometimes I'm stupid brave enough.  Today was such a day.  When I arrived at the first playground there was a father arriving as well with his very cute little girl in an extremely complex looking child carrier/backpack thingie.  We exchanged the usual pleasantries, "how old is she?"  "She's adorable." etc.  Then as I am attempting to feed Claire her snack I note that this daddy has pulled out his green glass water bottle and one of those clearly-purchased-from-the-organic-section containers of dried fruit.  I looked down at my Sonic bag of cheddar bites, ranch, apples and styrofoam cup of high fructose corn syrup(for me, not Claire) and got all sorts of self-conscious. 

At that moment, and right on cue, my child refuses to eat the apples Sonic had so lovingly sliced and bagged for her and insists on having a cheddar bite.  Shit.  I mean, really?  It's not just that it's cheese, it's fried cheese.  So I say to Claire as I hand her a half piece of lard dipped in lard and fried in lard, *nervous laugh* "don't tell daddy!"  Okay, so if you know my husband you probably know that while he does care what the girls eat, he would likely deem cheddar bites an appropriate meal.  I said meal, not snack.  He once fed Claire tator-tots as dinner.  This was my way of implying that we don't usually eat cheddar bites, eh-hem, cough cough.  Like, this is a one time thing, I swear, man I don't even know.  I'm sure he didn't even notice.  I all but threw the bites on the ground while shouting, "How dare those Sonic employees give us cheddar bites!  Don't they know we only eat local, organic foods?  Whew, that was close!"

Moral of the story, I am absolutely out of  my mind and the world is judging me for it.  Okay, maybe just the first part.