You're Hired!

Well, hell hath frozen over.  If by hell you mean Texas in August and if by frozen over you mean a chilly office in a North Dallas highrise...

Momma got a job.  Yep.

So here comes the mixed emotions.  I'm really excited to get back into the workplace.  Rob and I always assumed that I would stay home with Zora until she was 1 and then go back to work outside of the home.  Of course he said a few nights ago that he actually hoped I would stay home with her until age 2...now you tell me.

This job is a perfect transition back into the wilds of corporate America.  It's at a law firm and it's a writing position.  So, I'll be getting paid to do what I largely do for free.  I won't be practicing law, yet.  I say yet because I'm still on the fence if that's something I'm looking to start doing here in Texas. 

Yesterday when I arrived home from my interview I was basking in the joy of having a job offered to me on the spot.  Then I heard a tiny emanating whimper from Zora's room.  She was waking up from her afternoon nap and ready to be extracted from her crib confines. 

When I saw those little pink cheeks, big blue eyes, and tiny hands-one reaching for me, one holding on to Miss Monkey-I just lost it.  I scooped her up and apologized for leaving her, even though I hadn't.  I told her that I love her and that I was so grateful for the year that we had spent together.  I assured her that my going back to work wasn't because I don't like spending time with her.  I sobbed, "Mommy loves you so much. We'll still hang out all the time. I promise." 

It was awful.

We played together for almost an hour before Claire woke up from her nap.  She was distraught because Daddy had picked her up from school instead of Mommy.  If I asked her about her day at school she cried and said, "Mommy not coming. Daddy pick me up." 

Okay kids, you're making your point. 

So we spent the afternoon making up for hugs that will be missed, having giggles that I won't be here to hear, and generally enjoying each moment.

Look, I know they'll both be fine.  Claire will get used to going to school all day and Zora, well, as long as whomever is watching her feeds her regularly and makes sure she has Miss Monkey, she'll be fine.  I know all the things.  They'll be fine.  They'll get used to it.  They'll even like it.  No one needs to tell me these things, in fact, don't patronize me.  I know all of these things, but I don't have to like it. 

So, starting in a few weeks, I will be working outside of my home.  I'm not sure my emotions will ever be anything but mixed and I hope that I will look back on this decision and mark it down as a good one.  We shall see.

Arm Your Babies!

Ah the holidays are here.  In our house that means we've argued at least once about whether or not to put the Christmas lights on the house.  Maybe this year my husband will get them actually on the house rather than lying in the front yard like last year.  I'll hold my breath.

So, whilst trolling Ye Olde Book o'Face last week I discovered what could be the most disturbing/guilt-inducing/amazing product of all baby-time.

But first, an aside regarding Facebook.  I am one of those people that "likes" everyone's posts.  I will comment on your pictures and posts.  I will click on your YouTube videos and weblinks.  You know why? Because this is how I stay connected to the world outside of this house.  Sometimes Facebook is my only interaction with an adult other than my husband all day(s).  Sad?  Not really.  This isn't a complaint, it's an explanation.  As I have mentioned before, I like my kids and I like staying home with them.  However, I also like the grown-folks of this world.  So the next time you feel the need to tease or criticize someone for their constant Facebook-ing, stop and think about it and don't be an asshole.

Okay, so back to my trolling.  I get the Healthy Child, Healthy World newsfeed because I have "liked" their page.  Most of the time I do actually like their content.  They tend to post helpful information about baby/child related things.  They even broke the arsenic apple juice story weeks before Dr. Oz and his studio full of horny middle-aged women dying to wear that white coat, stand next to him, and drool inappropriately, even thought about toxic juice.  This week though, they really caught my attention but not in a good way.

I saw this.  This little company is trying to save the world, one radiation-free fetus at a time.  The product that ended up on Healthy Child's Facebook wall was this "Belly Armor."  You read that right, armor.  This device/blanket/piece of lead? will allegedly keep your in-womb baby safe from all of the radiation that is just floating around us at any given moment waiting to dart through your belly and get your unborn child.  Holy shit.  I didn't have this for either of my pregnancies.  I must have inadvertently exposed my children to radiation all over the place.  But it only covers the front.  What about all of that sneaky radiation that gets you from behind?  What about the kind that swoops in from the top?  Okay, all kidding and snark aside, I recognize that there are many schools of thought on this whole radiation issue.  Some people are truly concerned, some more dismissive.  I am sure that if there were a baby in my tummy right now it would be offended by the laptop perched so rudely...on my lap.  I'm sure my cellphone is giving me brain cancer and ear cancer or the like.  If you read the studies, they say radiation is everywhere.  EVERYWHERE!!!!  It's like squirrels but more evil and less fuzzy. 

Belly Armor may have its heart(lead heart) in the right place but for me this feels like another way to play on parents' insecurities and guilt.  Look, Belly Armor, and every company like you:  I am one of those parents that tries to have my kids eat organic, avoid BPA at any cost, wear sunscreen, not kick animals and generally be healthy.  I need for you to stop putting more bullshit out there for me to worry about.  I have enough to freak out about without your radiation-avoiding fannypack. I am trying to raise smart, kind, well-adjusted future members of society.  Honestly, if you want to tell me something causes cancer, can't it be Barbie?  She is just awful these days.  I mean who rides a bike in a mini-skirt with pink thigh-high fishnets and no panties?  (It's Barbie, p.s.) 

My clever friend Michelle offered to film the infomercial: "Looking for a way to ensure your second child doesn't also come out with a tail?"  I think this would be a really popular infomercial...at least as popular as Carve Abs in Bed.  Who knows maybe as popular as the Magic Bullet one with the chain-smoking, drunk neighbor.


Well, if said infomercial was available for viewing, alas, Claire would not be allowed to watch it.  We are still aspiring to be TV-free...but just like last week, I succumbed to the stress/irritation of screaming child/ren and switched on the tube.  We'll call this past week "The Week Mommy Gave Up."  That pretty much describes how the past seven days went.  Oh well, we'll get back on the wagon.  After all, as with trying to kick any habit, one bad week shouldn't make you give up all together.  One episode of Caillou here and there won't ruin Claire, she'll just say "oat" instead of "out."(Because he's Canadian, get it?)  Seriously.