M.I.A.

You'll have to excuse me if I'm a bit M.I.A. from the blogosphere this week.  The thing is, I am SUPER busy.

I'm busy sitting by this:

The Ladies that Lunch

The highlight of my week this week?

Lunch.  Yesterday.

It had been planned for over a month.  I dropped the kids off at my neighbor's house (who is a saint for taking both of them).  I drove downtown BY MYSELF.  I arrived early and walked around the block a few times, watching the people in suits and feeling a knee jerk gratification that I wasn't one of them.

Then I went to the venue - Potenza.  I had looked up the menu ahead of time, trying to find something to fit within my Weight Watchers diet (which expires tomorrow, hooray!).  I decided on a salad, and upon entering the restaurant and catching a lovely aroma of garlic, decided the hell with it.  I would order what I wanted.

So how did I end up at this nice venue, sans children, on a Thursday afternoon?

Interviews

So I had an interview this morning.  Don't worry, I'm not returning to the dark side.  It was just some Craiglist ad I responded to for a part time legal writing position that actually turned out to be legitimate.  (Go figure?).

Back in the day, I used to be a master interviewee.  I was never nervous.  Why would I be?  When else do you have the opportunity to talk about yourself for 30+ minutes and have someone pretend to care?  Plus, I had a lot to say.  I had interesting experiences, and a solid educational background.   I felt that the jobs were competing for me, not vice versa.  I guess you could say I was cocky.

But my cockiness paid off, and in the two times I went through the whole interview process (during law school, and then when moving to DC), for every call back I had at a law firm, I received an offer.  (Except Zuckerman Spaeder.  Why Zuckerman?  Why?).

Today's interview was a conference call at 9:30, and I hadn't given it much thought.  Then around 9:05 or so, I started getting nervous.  As in, pit in my stomach, dry mouth nervous.

WTF?

Getting My Shit Together

Does it ever seem like everyone else has their shit together?  Except you?

This past weekend I went to visit one of my best friends in Pittsburgh.  She has two boys my kids' age, and we had an awesome time.  Her house is beautiful.  Her kids are adorable.  She hosted dinner and then brunch.  She is six months pregnant, yet still looks stylish.  She has amazing window treatments and a wine refrigerator and multiple throw pillows on the guest room bed.  She has a dog that can go outside without a leash.  She stays at home with her two kids and has all their toys organized into plastic bins which are labelled by topic with a typed sticker.

She really has her shit together.

And it's not just her.

Pic of the Week - Worn Out

I'm not the only one who is exhausted after a long week....

But I'm not nearly as cute.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Flashbacks

When I was a junior in college at Penn State, I remember having a conversation with a friend of mine about her older sister.  Her older sister had just had a baby, and had given my friend some advice:

"Go out in college as much as you can - resist the urge to stay in, even if you are tired.  Because someday, when you are rocking your baby to sleep in the middle of the night, those are the memories that you will come back to."

This advice haunted me, but I probably didn't need it.  I went out all the time in college on my own accord.  I had a blast.

But 10 years later, when I had just had my own baby, I thought about this admonition.  And I didn't really find it to be true.  When I was up rocking Braden to sleep, I wasn't thinking about getting drunk at frat parties.  I was more focused on "when on earth can I go back to sleep and how many hours of sleep will I end up getting tonight?  Four?  Five?  Oh God, please six?"  Sometimes I thought about doughnuts or when I would make time to get my hair highlighted.  But mostly, just sleep.

Lately, however, I have found that I have been having intermittent flashbacks to my youth. Not while rocking anyone to sleep, but just throughout my regular day.  They usually are prompted by hearing a random song.  So, for example:

My New Hobby

When I quit my job and decided to be a stay at home mom, a goal of mine was to find some hobbies.  For the 5 years prior I had been so busy with work and kids that all hobbies had fallen to the wayside.  And to be honest, I'm not sure if I ever really had a hobby.  Can you call travel a hobby?  Or reality television?  Or the enjoyment of a few too many cocktails at happy hour?

For a while, I didn't do too well.  I did take a photography class, and I enjoy playing around with my camera here and there, but I suck at it, so I haven't really embraced it as a full fledged hobby.  I started exercising, but I loathe every second of it, so surely that can't count.  I signed up for a yoga class, but after years of doing it on and off, I have come to accept that I will never be able to form a human pretzel.

However, I am happy to say that in the midst of all this attempted betterment of myself, I have actually found something I enjoy doing.

Too Stressed to Eat

You know what I miss the most about biglaw these days?

Being too stressed to eat.

There would be days when I would completely forget to eat breakfast and lunch.  It would be around 4pm, and I would realize I hadn't eaten anything all day.  I would make a mental note to eat a bigger dinner.  But by the time dinner rolled around (usually 8:30 or 9pm when I was in New York), I had completely lost my appetite.  So I would order my $50 worth of food to be delivered to the office (paid for by the firm, of course), take a few bites, and then retire home for the evening an hour later.

No wonder I was so skinny.

Brothers

When I was a little girl, I got really into the Cabbage Patch Kid craze.  I think I had something like 25 Cabbage Patch Kid dolls.  And of all 25 dolls, my favorite was a little boy with brown curly hair.

He's the one on the right. 

I think I always knew I was going to have a little boy.

When I got pregnant for the first time, everyone predicted I was going to have a girl, but I knew different.  And at the 20 week ultrasound, I proved them right. I was completely okay with having a boy.  I was never one of those people that just had to have a little girl mini-me.  I'm not a girly girl.  I hate pink.  I hate ballet.  And besides, I knew I would have another child.

When I got pregnant for the second time, I told people I didn't care about the gender.  And I didn't think I did.  After all, I loved Braden more than I could ever have imagined.  A boy.  So if we had another boy, it would just be another amazing little miracle who I would love more than anything.  And besides, I'm not a girly girl.  I hate pink.  I hate ballet.

I don't know how people go through their whole pregnancy without finding out the gender.  Because for me, from the second I got that positive pregnancy stick I was dying to know.  Dying!  I would harass my husband to death asking him, "So what do you think it is today?"  I did all those online tests - Chinese calendar, stupid questionnaires, that ring over the belly test.  All with mixed results.

The Pressure of a Balmy Winter Weekend

 In the sixties!  In the northeast!  In January!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!  Whatever will we do?

First, we must be grateful.  Very grateful.  Because it won't last and the wrath of winter will come back and bite us in the ass and knock out our electricity and force us to be stuck in traffic on the GW Parkway for 12+ hours.  (And no, that didn't happen to me.  But I have PTSD just thinking about it).  Make no mistake - trees will fall once again.

Second, and most importantly, we must make the most of this precious gift.  It musn't be wasted! We must go outside and dance and sing and skip in the 60 degree air!  And then on Monday, we must discuss our chosen outdoor activity with friends, family, co-workers, and Starbucks employees.  And we better have something good.  It can't simply be taking the dog for a walk.  No.  It must be impressive.  Unique.  Something that shows that we had a true appreciation for the weather blessing that was bestowed upon us.

On Saturday morning, my husband and I faced this challenge.  What to do?  A simple park seemed insufficient.  The National Zoo was out of the question (worst. zoo. ever.).  The Smithsonian is overrated (National History Museum = Stuffed Zoo).  Sipping on Bloody Mary's at a sidewalk cafe, though enticing, felt inappropriate.

The Answer

I am happy staying at home, you know.  Really.  Notwithstanding all my recent posts on my devilish toddler, my guilt over splurging on a pair of boots, judgmental attorneys who hate women, and the monotony of my daily life, I actually am happy with my current job.

I am the first to admit I've been a bit of a Debbie Downer recently.  I have a couple of excuses: First, it's cold and dark outside.  As I've mentioned before, this tends to bring on a funk each year, no matter my employment status.  Second, this blog is my place to vent.  For some reason, I have more of an urge to vent when I am sad than when I am happy.  So the "wah wah wah," "I'm bored," "feel bad for me posts" tend to outweigh the "what an awesome day," "my kids are the joy of my life," "you know you want to be me posts."  When I'm happy, I don't always want to write about it.  I'd rather just live in the moment.

My last post was a particularly depressing one, in large part because I'd just gotten back from vacation.  (Isn't everyone depressed when they get back from vacation?).  In any event, I suppose I can see why, to an outsider, it may seem like I am a miserable stay at home mom who regrets and laments walking away from my career.  In fact, a commenter asked me this very question:

"Why do you choose to stay at home?  It seems as if you don't enjoy it.  Every single thing you typed is the exact reason I work outside of the home (the need for something other than monotony, the need to be intellectually stimulated, etc.).  I have great admiration for SAHMs, and I'm not at all trying to judge, I promise.  But, it seems that so many SAHMs are not happy..."

I thought this was an interesting, genuine question.  So here's the answer:

Dangerously Close to Falling into a January Funk

January is starting off as it pretty much always does for me.  

Blah.  

We got back from North Carolina on Sunday.  It was warm there.  My husband didn't have to go to work there.  I had free babysitters at my disposal there.  I ate whatever I wanted there.  I drank wine each night and didn't feel guilty about it there.  I showered whenever I wanted and went shopping and enjoyed my kids and my family and playing Words with Friends.  

Don't get me wrong - there was ample family drama and on more than one occasion I yearned to come home.  But it is just different being away.  There were always people around.  There were always activities.  Each day was different from the day before.  As all vacations are, it was a break from real life and the stresses and guilt and obligations that come with it.