Tag Archives: Working Mom

Did you think I forgot about you?

Did you think I’d forgotten about you? No. It’s not you. It’s me. You didn’t do anything wrong– it’s just a case of my real life getting in the way of my virtual life.

This happens a lot. My real life gets in the way of the life I live in my head, which requires a lot of attention and time, I must tell you. Often I prioritize the things going on inside my head, which results in the slovenly housekeeping and terrifying piles of papers found everywhere in our house. But there are times, like the last couple of weeks, when even I can’t ignore the real stuff and it just has to get some attention.

There’s been a lot going on. Some James stuff, which I’ll fill you in about in another post. It involves vomit. (Oh, I know. Tell me more, you say!)

There’s also been a lot going on at work. I’m also working on a big post about that.

And yes, I haven’t forgotten our Mondays. I have many a pending Monday list for you.

So never fear. You’re always on my mind. Cue the music.


1 Comment

October 18, 2013 · 1:56 pm

Working Girl

Okay, cue the 80s career gal movie montage of flying money. (Baby Boom? Anyone?)

It’s time to talk about being a working mother mom who works outside the home.Image .  

There is so much to say here. Many more posts to come. Let’s just start with what happened last night. 

Big Boy goes to a Montessori school where they don’t really do a typical birthday party with cake. They do a ceremony where the child “goes around the sun” and the parents share photos while the child walks slowly around a lit candle. It’s all vaguely pagan. (This is a school where they celebrate the winter solstice, y’all). 

Because the parents are not supposed to bring cake (too messy and unhealthy), and because Big Boy’s birthday was a couple of weeks ago, I hadn’t thought much about his ceremony this morning. Last night, however, he asked me what treat we were bringing for the class. And to be clear, by treat, his school usually means carob squares with spinach hidden inside, or some other similar “dessert.” 

At 8 pm last night, I made a quick survey of the pantry and realized that the cupboard was pretty bare. I offered to go to the store in the morning and get stuff to make brownies, but Big Boy told me they were “too messy” for his class. I offered to make cupcakes, but these were “too unhealthy.” Then I offered to make rice crispie treats, but these were “too sticky.” Basically, no normal baked goods are acceptable for this kind of celebration. 

Big Boy then sighed and said, “Mom, just go to Whole Foods.” Yep. He saw straight through my denial into my true self, which is apparently a mom that brings store-bought baked goods to school for her son’s birthday. 

I never thought I would be that kind of mom. One of my favorite books (and a middling movie starring the winsome Sarah Jessica Parker) is I Don’t Know How She Does It, by Allison Pearson. It features a great scene in which the titular “she”– a working mother– “distresses” store-bought baked goods in the middle of the night so she can take them to her children’s school the next day and everyone will think she made them. 

I used to work at a law firm. The entire time I worked there, I took great pride in baking ridiculous things from scratch. Organic, whole wheat carrot cake! You can smell the virtuous motherhood reeking from those words. 

But throw in a third kid? Forget it. I’m going to Whole Foods, and my kids know it. The bakery jig is up. 

Thus, I found myself purchasing $35 worth of chocolate chip cookie icing sandwiches this morning and brought them to school in a pleasing brown paper box. Husband took one look at them and said “I thought this was more of a bran muffin kind of thing.”

Guess what? If I’m going to be the store-bought booked goods mom, I’m at least going to be the delicious store-bought baked goods mom. Life is too short for bran muffins on your birthday. No, let’s try that again. Life is too short for bran muffins. 



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