Back to Work

It's funny how life works out sometimes.   

Remember way back when, when I mentioned this awesome company called Montage Legal Group?  It was in a post where I was lamenting the lack of part time/flexible/freelance options for stay at home attorney moms.  Actually, what I wrote, way back in November 2011, was:

"Speaking of freelance work, through Twitter I have come across some companies that provide freelance legal services and primarily employ female attorneys with children.  Check out Montage Legal - the company's website states that it is 'a network of experienced freelance attorneys who left law firms to achieve a work-life balance.'  Um, hello?  You speaking to me?  Sign me up!"

Guess what.  They read it.  And they signed me up. 

In fact, I'm the lead attorney for the DC branch of the company, launching this week.  Here's the press release.  And here's the blog post (written by yours truly) announcing the launch on the Montage blog. 

How cool is that? 

To me the whole thing is genius.  There are so many moms out there, particularly in DC, with ivy league educations and experience at some of the largest law firms in the country.  Most of these women DO want to keep their foot in the door, but lack the opportunities.  Through Montage, these women are banding together, legitimizing their skills, and becoming the ultimate talent pool for law firms that need to hire lawyers on a contract basis. 

To say I'm excited puts it mildly.  This is a job, and hopefully I will make some money at it.  But more than that, I really believe in it - what it offers to women, what it offers to law firms, and what it stands for. 

In the meantime, if any law firms out there are in need of some experienced attorneys to do some freelance or contract work, shoot me an email at shannonf@montagelegal.com.  Or, if there are any ex-big-law stay at home mom attorneys in the DC area that are interested in joining, let's talk.

Here's to new endeavors. 

Worst Mom Ever Moments

I've had several of these.  I'm not going to describe each one, as I try to erase them from memory.  But a really, really bad one happened yesterday. 

So Braden is really scared of lawn mowers.  Like PHOBIC.  Which is weird, because he's actually obsessed with lawn mowers from a distance - in books, tv shows, lawns that are at least a quarter of a mile away.  But if we're ever near one, it's major freak out mode.  Major.  I've learned this, and we've adapted.  Not a big deal. 

Yesterday, when we got home from picking up Braden from school, our lawn service was here mowing our lawn.  So of course Braden starts panicking.  I pulled into our driveway, trying to talk rationally to him - Braden, isn't that lawn mower cool?  Yes, it's a little bit loud.  But it doesn't hurt you.  It won't touch you.  No, I promise, it is not coming in the car. 

A Diaper in My Purse

One of my mantras to Braden is that "no matter how old you get, you'll always be my baby."  It's one I find myself saying more and more to him lately, as he starts riding a bike and dressing himself and being embarrassed to hug me in public.  Being the adorable kid he is, he often repeats it back to me, saying, "Mommy, you'll always be my baby too." 

It melts my heart.  Because it's true.  He'll always be my baby. 

But in reality, I don't have a baby anymore. 

Somehow, just like that, my kids have graduated from babyhood.  With Braden I didn't really have time to think about it.  When he was officially becoming a toddler, I was pregnant and already preparing for the next baby - buying another crib, stocking up on 3-6 month clothing, and re-sterilizing bottles.  We never sold or stored the baby toys or the changing pads or the diaper champs - they barely had dust on them by the time Casey was born. 

And then there was the whirlwind of Casey - a joy, but also a shock.  We were thrown back into the madness of having an infant, on top of a toddler, and for a long while, we just managed to survive.  And then came my departure from my job and Braden starting school and life generally, and somehow time went by and both of my babies are no longer babies.  And for some reason, I am really mourning that.

For four years, I have had a diaper in my purse. 

What a Difference Two Hours Can Make

This school year has brought a new schedule and it's freaking amazing.  What it boils down to is that I have two free hours a day, between the hours of 1 and 3.  TWO FREE HOURS!

Well, I should clarify, they aren't completely free.  Casey naps during this time, so I am homebound.  But Casey is a master napper these days (oh bless you, angel child).  These two hours are pretty much guaranteed. 

It's not that I haven't had free time in the past.  Ever since staying at home, my boys have (usually) napped.  But their schedules would conflict, or one would rouse early.  And then Braden started his napping strike.  As a result, if I was lucky enough to get any free time,  I could never completely enjoy it because there was a constant threat of it being cut abruptly short.

But now?  These two hours are bliss.  For one, I eat lunch alone everyday.  Alone!  I wait to eat until Casey falls asleep, and then I take my time.  I sit on the couch and put my food on the coffee table.  I WATCH TV.  I eat oreos.  I don't have to tend to anyone or share my food with anyone or interrupt my lunch to wipe someone's ass. 

Four

It was birthday time again this past week - Braden turned 4.  (Or, "a little bit 4," as he would say). 

I love celebrating my kids' birthdays - I love all the excitement and joy and cake and presents.  All the stuff that adults don't indulge in anymore for themselves.  I don't know when birthdays lose their luster (I suppose around the age of 21), but there's something about celebrating your childrens' birthdays that brings that excitement back to you too. 

But apart from all the festivities, I love my kids' birthdays for what they mean.

It means that four years ago, I became a mother.  I changed, overnight, just like that.  It wasn't a conscious change, or one I was aware of at the time, but it was stark.  From the moment I laid eyes on Braden, I was a mother first and foremost.  Sure, I was still a wife, a daughter, a lawyer, a sister, a friend... but not in the same way I once was.  All of those roles became secondary to the purpose thrust upon me four years ago - to be a mom. 

I love this role - I love who I am in it.  I love that I am completely selfless when it comes to my kids.  Despite trying my darndest, I don't know that I've been able to truly do that with anyone else in my life.  I love my husband, but the fact is, if there's only one cupcake left, and we both want it, we'll fight each other for it.  Or maybe we'll offer it to the other, but deep down, we both want it.  I think that's just human nature.  But with my kids?  There's that weird thing called altruism.  Where you want what is best for them at any cost, even if at your expense.  I feel that big time.  And I LOVE that feeling. 

Frazzled

I try hard not to be that frazzled mom.  You know the one - always late, hair all disheveled, with a kid on one hip and another trailing closely behind with mismatched clothing.  No, I try to keep organized, arrive early, speak politely, and maintain a relative sense of calm. 

Not happening today. 

It started out as an ordinary day.  We had breakfast, watched Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and played downstairs.  We left the house around 9:45am for Braden's OT appointment.  I told his OT that I wanted to pick him up ten minutes early (at 10:50), so I could get him to school early.  After all, it was his first day eating lunch at school, and I wanted to arrive with ample time to get him settled. 

I had tracked my route ahead of time, accounting for traffic, construction, and traffic lights.  If I timed it right, I would get there ten minutes early  - at 11:20 - enough time to park, take him to the bathroom, and find the classroom. 

All was going swimmingly until I got on the Beltway and realized that the exit for Connecticut Avenue had a major back up.  After sitting practically still for 10 minutes, I started panicking.  It didn't help that the woman in front of me (in her sixties driving a BMW) was texting on her phone, didn't see traffic moving when it was, and kept letting people get in in front of her.  I finally ended up honking, at which point she opened her door, got out of her car, and told me to "Fuck off."