Past Midnight

I find it funny when people ask me what I'm doing for New Year's Eve.  It's a perfectly polite and well meaning question, but really?  REALLY?

Let me tell you a few things about New Year's Eve:

Even before having children, I dreaded New Year's.  It was always this high pressure night when you had to make big plans and find dinner reservations and pay some price fixed New Year's special and then find a party or bar where you would fight for drinks and a cab home.

After years of concerts, trips to Europe, and overpriced Manhattan nightclubs, in 2005 we decided we were getting too old to venture out.  Instead, we decided to keep it more "low key" and have a party at our apartment in Manhattan.  Our apartment was actually on the bigger size by NYC standards, so we cleared out the furniture, cleaned, and had about 40 people over.  This was great, until I realized that we LIVED in the apartment and it had been trashed.  At 2am when everyone left, and I wanted to do some minor cleaning (aka, there are bottles of vodka spilling in our bath tub), my husband (then fiance) could not be roused from this position:

Boots

There are children starving all over the world.

My kids have 529 accounts that need to be filled.

I am technically unemployed.

It is the season of giving - you know, like to others. 

We really should be paying down our HELOC while interest rates are low.

I have no need for any form of high fashion given that I am in pajamas 90% of the time.

I pay almost $1000 a month in student loans for a career that I have all but abandoned.

And yet, somehow, this morning I justified to myself that it was acceptable to spend $312 on these:

My Son is Beating Me Up

It's getting official.  My sweet little boy is turning into a TERROR.

He hits.  He kicks.  He throws.  He screams.  He pulls hair.

Sometimes it's because he doesn't get what he wants (aka, wrong Gabba episode, juice in the wrong colored cup, shirt he wants to wear is dirty - you know, the real tragedies).  Other times, it's just because.

To his credit, he will give me a fair warning.  I.e., "I'm going to hit you today." or "I'm going to go kick Casey."  And then, the simple, yet poignant, declaration of:  "I'm going to be a bad boy."  Yes, my boy tells it like it is.

I have tried various approaches to dealing with this, none of which have been successful:

Approach #1 - Time Outs
I've read parenting blogs and watched Supernanny, so time outs were my first plan of attack. Every time he hit or acted aggressively, I would calmly put him in his time out chair, explain to him why I was placing him in time out, leave for a few minutes, come back, ask for an apology, and then hug and make up.  Simple enough?  Nope!  For some odd reason, Braden loved these time outs.  He would get a huge smile on his face as he would sit on the chair.  He liked it so much that he ended up hitting me, just so he could get a time out!  How do I know this?  Because the little s#@! would say, "Mommy, I'm going to hit you and then I can go in time out."  APPROACH #1 FAIL.

Pic of the Week - Keeping it Classy

Hubby Birthday Dinner #31:  Benihana

Impeccable fried rice.  Cold sake.  Man on drugs at adjacent table.  Photo souvenir.  

We'll be back next year. 

Hindsight

I started this blog on April 1, 2011, with a post called My New Endeavor.  In it, I tell my story - how I got into the craziness that is the legal industry, and the reasons why I left.   It has been, by far, my most popular post with the most comments.  Right now there are 67 comments.  And it is this 67th comment I want to write about today.

On December 1, a person who calls themselves "Hindsight" left the following comment:

"You have just set forth why so many women are not hired.  After proving you could do it, if you really wanted to, you opted for children and staying home - honorable and admirable choices.  But I wonder if the coveted law school spot would have been better spent on someone who needed the job and would more likely stick with it."

Hmmmm.

For some reason, this comment hit a nerve with me.  I had to resist responding in a nasty way, and I forced myself to sit on it for a week or two.  Perhaps it's because the comment is full of stereotypes and blatant gender discrimination.  Perhaps it's because it is probably written by a lawyer who makes hiring decisions - hiring decisions that may affect me someday.  Or perhaps because in some ways, I understand what this guy (and I am assuming it is a guy, but maybe not), is saying.

A Whole Lotta Holiday Card

Oh, the holiday card.  The way to spread holiday cheer, while at the same time saying "look how cute my kids are, surely they are cuter than yours."  Or, if you're not quite there, "look at my dog, doesn't he look funny when he wears an elf hat."  Or perhaps even, "we got married this year, look how stunning I look in my wedding gown, I lost 15 pounds to fit that thing on my body."

It's enough to make you sick.  Or get totally excited to check the mail to see what holiday cards have come.  Or get totally swept up in the phenomenon yourself.

Yes, I in fact have done all of the aforementioned holiday cards.  Shall we take a tour?

Hello Again

Wow, I feel out of the loop lately.  The blogging loop, the friend loop, the I need to clean my house loop.  The past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of working while trying to fit in cooking and cleaning and tantrums and patience with my husband's ridiculously long hours.  I feel like I have been on adrenaline, going from one task to the next and struggling (not always successfully) to keep it together.

But this morning, I am able to breathe, to relax, to appreciate the quiet.  The work deadline has passed. I got 8 hours of sleep last night.  Braden is at school.  Casey is asleep.  And I am back where I like to be at this time in the morning - in bed, with a cup of coffee, the computer on my lap, and the Today show on in the background.

These past couple of weeks have been a rude awakening as to what it was like - what it is like - to manage two jobs at once.  In a word - hard.

As hard as it is to stay at home with two kids, it is that much harder to stay at home and try to fit work in at the same time.  Laundry fell to the wayside.  The kids ate mac and cheese every other night.  I put the TV on more than I'd like to admit.  And the guilt that I hadn't felt in so long came flooding back - guilt for neglecting my kids, and guilt for not getting the work done quicker.  It is amazing how quickly I fell back into the cycle of it all.

I have 11 minutes to write this post

This whole working thing has been a change of pace for sure.

My schedule these days?

7am - Get up with kids
8:30am- Braden off to school
9:00am- Casey goes down for nap
9-11am - Work during nap
11-2:30pm - Pick up Braden, feed kids, entertain kids, keep kids from engaging in suicide drops
2:30-4:30 - Work during nap
4:30-8:00pm - Feed kids, entertain kids, keep myself from engaging in suicide drop, kids to bed
8-10pm - Work.
10pm-7am - Watch DVRed crap reality television and sleep.  (And no, I never get 9 hours of sleep.  Ever.)

Rinse and repeat.

The intent has been to budget six hours a day for work.  Some days are more successful than others, but the whole schedule has been a bit grueling and I feel like I'm in a constant race against the clock.

I don't want to complain, because I am really grateful for this short stint job.  The money is good, it feels good to be working again, and it's something to add to my resume.  But it is a gentle reminder that the whole juggle is very, very difficult.

If this were a more long term thing, I'd obviously look into childcare options which would make things a lot easier.  But it's not, so I'll make due for the time being.  And stick to the schedule.

I have more to say, but my time is up, and I'm feeling guilty for not doing the work I should be doing.  Old habits die hard!

A Bitter Pill

When I started this blog, it never really dawned on me to make it completely anonymous.  For starters, I didn't really expect hardly anyone to read it.  But more than that, I felt like I didn't have anything to hide.  I just didn't see a reason to completely conceal myself behind the thin veil of the internet.

I have to say that over the past few months there have been MANY times that I wished it were anonymous.  And probably not for the reasons you think.  I'm not scared of people seeing my kids or employers blackballing me or getting the occasional hate mail (oh, you gotta love the hate mail!).  Instead, I feel as if my lack of anonymity has limited my subject matter.

Lets be honest - I'd love to bitch about a few choice people.  I'd love to be able to sincerely express my hopes, fears, and insecurities.  I'd love to have this blog be my TRUE outlet where I can just let it all go.  But I can't.  Because, for better or worse, people are reading it.  People I know.  Including those choice aforementioned people.