Every morning, we rush our little guy out the door with pleading voices to brush your teeth, grab your back pack, get dressed, don't miss the bus. We breathe a sigh of relief after he boards the bus for another day of learning in the first grade, confident we've provided him with a healthy breakfast, a hug and kiss, a treat tucked away in the lunch box.
Then, one day, I get in the car to breaking news. Another school shooting. This one just 10 short miles down the road. Confusion about who fired shots. A suspect in custody. An AK-47.
During kindergarten last year, my son would excitedly tell me about what drill they had that day - fire drills being the favorite, as they were during my school tenure, since he got to go outside during the drill. Fire and tornado drills I could relate to. I'd crouched in many a cinder block hallway with a my hands over my head myself and was pleased that his teacher was imparting these drills in a way that made them not scary, but still very important.
Then one day he told me about soft lockdown drill. After investigating, I realized my little guy practices five drills multiple times each year: Fire, tornado, soft lockdown, hard lockdown and evacuation.
My heart broke.
Yes, I'm pleased that the school has a plan and that they are practicing it with my child. They would be negligent not to, in this day and age, and I want to know that my child will be safe when I send him into their care.
But so much of me is saddened to know he has to do this, that this nonchalant recognition of the different between a hard and soft lockdown will simply be a part of my child's school experience. That one day, he may be faced with having to speak up about something scary he sees in his school. That potentially he would huddle in the corner on the brightly colored mat by the bookcase with the lights off and the doors locked and the teacher whispering she loves him while pops explode in the hallway.
Right now, soft and hard lockdowns are just practice for him and understanding why they happen are outside his current reality. I hope they stay that way.
But someone else making their way into a school with a weapon of mass or self-destruction scares the shit out of me.
When did our schools become the battleground?
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Flexing Frustrations
Most days, my flex schedule is great. I get a few mornings in an office setting with adult conversation, thought-provoking challenges and a kid-free zone to work. I am able to be home to play, meet the school bus and make a family dinner. Appointments for the kids can be made for times when I'm at home and meetings can, most often, be scheduled for times when I'm in the office.
But not every day/week/month lives up to the ideal it is on paper.
For instance, elementary school started last week and the now 7 year old is back to a full school schedule. The 3 year old, however, doesn't go back to preschool for two more weeks. The babysitter I had for the summer has gone back to school and I'm officially without dedicated child care for two weeks.
I have a very understanding husband who, even during the school year, will make it a point to handle preschool pick-ups during his lunch hour so I can manage an extra 45 minutes in the office. He has had a fantastic flex schedule of his own this summer that allows for some half-day Fridays. And overall, he's been very supportive of helping me get that coveted office time when he can.
But, it's weeks like these that bring the same old tired argument we always have about two work schedules back to the surface. The fact of the matter is, when he goes to work each morning, he doesn't have to worry about where the kids are. So when I'm stuck with no sitter, he doesn't have to think twice about where he will be from nine to six, five days a week, but I have to jump through hoops of fire to figure out how to manage eight to 12 hours a week in the office on top of the extra at home hours I already have to finagle.
The fact of the matter is that there are just not that many reliable, easy, part-time daycare options available. Daycare centers don't really offer part-time care, nannies most often want a full-time position and relying on babysitters means that you have to find the sweet spot in scheduling between their other commitments and yours. It can be a full-time job in itself to find this kind of part-time care. And who has time for that? Many part-timers and flex schedule folks I know tend to cobble together the same sort of piecemeal care that I do: shared pick-ups, strategic play dates, occasional sitters, preschool.
I spend a great deal of time being available via email and cell so that nothing falls through the cracks whether I'm at the office or the zoo with two stir-crazy kids. Sure, sometimes I have to be that mom who is talking to a reporter the day of a big company announcement from the parking lot of my kids' science camp watching him launch rockets. And sometimes I have to park the 3 year old in front of a movie to get work done when there isn't a babysitter and pitching a reporter after they go to bed is not an option. But it means that my colleagues don't doubt my work ethic and ensures that the work gets done, while at the same time, being there for my kids.
But not every day/week/month lives up to the ideal it is on paper.
For instance, elementary school started last week and the now 7 year old is back to a full school schedule. The 3 year old, however, doesn't go back to preschool for two more weeks. The babysitter I had for the summer has gone back to school and I'm officially without dedicated child care for two weeks.
I have a very understanding husband who, even during the school year, will make it a point to handle preschool pick-ups during his lunch hour so I can manage an extra 45 minutes in the office. He has had a fantastic flex schedule of his own this summer that allows for some half-day Fridays. And overall, he's been very supportive of helping me get that coveted office time when he can.
But, it's weeks like these that bring the same old tired argument we always have about two work schedules back to the surface. The fact of the matter is, when he goes to work each morning, he doesn't have to worry about where the kids are. So when I'm stuck with no sitter, he doesn't have to think twice about where he will be from nine to six, five days a week, but I have to jump through hoops of fire to figure out how to manage eight to 12 hours a week in the office on top of the extra at home hours I already have to finagle.
The fact of the matter is that there are just not that many reliable, easy, part-time daycare options available. Daycare centers don't really offer part-time care, nannies most often want a full-time position and relying on babysitters means that you have to find the sweet spot in scheduling between their other commitments and yours. It can be a full-time job in itself to find this kind of part-time care. And who has time for that? Many part-timers and flex schedule folks I know tend to cobble together the same sort of piecemeal care that I do: shared pick-ups, strategic play dates, occasional sitters, preschool.
I spend a great deal of time being available via email and cell so that nothing falls through the cracks whether I'm at the office or the zoo with two stir-crazy kids. Sure, sometimes I have to be that mom who is talking to a reporter the day of a big company announcement from the parking lot of my kids' science camp watching him launch rockets. And sometimes I have to park the 3 year old in front of a movie to get work done when there isn't a babysitter and pitching a reporter after they go to bed is not an option. But it means that my colleagues don't doubt my work ethic and ensures that the work gets done, while at the same time, being there for my kids.
I don't know what the answer is, but until part time child care is a reliable and easy option for families, it will be harder and harder for families (and let's face it, mostly women) to create and fight for these flexible working situations.
Even weeks like this when I struggle with the guilt of not being in the right place at the right time, I count myself lucky. I am lucky to have a situation that is truly flexible. I am lucky to have supportive family. I am lucky my kids are self-sufficient enough to build a race track through my living room as I push press releases to 13 different states. I am lucky that when the work is done, I can pack a picnic and play at the park with a very precocious little 3 year old.
But it frustrates me that I have to count myself lucky. We need to look at how to make flexible work more widely available and accepted. We need companies to understand the mutual benefit of creating these types of arrangements to keep the right kind of people benefiting their bottom line. We need the child care industry to recognize there is a market for flexible care. We need to take advantage of the technology we have available to us to allow us to work whenever, wherever.
Of course there are jobs that will never be flexible, but for those that can be, we need to start fighting for flexibility.
The saying goes that luck is where preparation meets opportunity. It's time we start making our own luck in the workplace.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
A Son's Love
I think it's safe to say that if you've ever listened to NPR, you've sat in your driveway or in a parking lot listening to the soothing narration, the metered cadence of voice over, hanging on every turn of the story until you got to the satisfying end (I mean, they made a whole CD of them, so I can't be alone in this).
I did that today.
"All Things Considered" did a brief interview with their weekend host, Scott Simon, who has been tweeting the final days of his mother's life spent in the ICU. She passed last night. I've been following his twitter feed (@nprScottSimon) and had been truly touched by his words the last several days, many bringing me to tears.
"Mother cries Help Me at 2;30. Been holding her like a baby since. She's asleep now. All I can do is hold on to her."
"I love holding my mother's hand. Haven't held it like this since I was 9. Why did I stop? I thought it unmanly? What crap."
"I just realized: she once had to let me go into the big wide world. Now I have to let her go the same way."
"Mother asks, "Will this go on forever?" She means pain, dread. "No." She says, "But we'll go on forever. You & me." Yes."
As I listened to his voice break and why he shared these experiences with the world, all I could focus on were the words and a son's love for his mother held inside of them.
As a mother, all I want is for my children to be strong, capable, caring, graceful people. I want them to go forth in the world and conquer their little part of it. I want them to have loving relationships and generous spirits. In my heart of hearts, I don't truly want any credit for that. I simply want to revel in it. I want to be an old lady on a porch somewhere and watch my children teach their children those same lessons and know in that moment that whatever I did worked.
But to see this man's love for his mother spelled out in 140 characters of brutal honesty and sincerer sentiment than any Hallmark card could ever hope to possess, I admit I want to be loved like that.
So, Patricia Lyons Simon Newman, know this: you did an excellent job raising what appears to be a thoughtful and loving man. But you also inspired me again today to continue trying to be the best mother to my boys I know how so that one day, they too will hold me in their arms and realize the symmetry of our love.
I did that today.
"All Things Considered" did a brief interview with their weekend host, Scott Simon, who has been tweeting the final days of his mother's life spent in the ICU. She passed last night. I've been following his twitter feed (@nprScottSimon) and had been truly touched by his words the last several days, many bringing me to tears.
"Mother cries Help Me at 2;30. Been holding her like a baby since. She's asleep now. All I can do is hold on to her."
"I love holding my mother's hand. Haven't held it like this since I was 9. Why did I stop? I thought it unmanly? What crap."
"I just realized: she once had to let me go into the big wide world. Now I have to let her go the same way."
"Mother asks, "Will this go on forever?" She means pain, dread. "No." She says, "But we'll go on forever. You & me." Yes."
As I listened to his voice break and why he shared these experiences with the world, all I could focus on were the words and a son's love for his mother held inside of them.
As a mother, all I want is for my children to be strong, capable, caring, graceful people. I want them to go forth in the world and conquer their little part of it. I want them to have loving relationships and generous spirits. In my heart of hearts, I don't truly want any credit for that. I simply want to revel in it. I want to be an old lady on a porch somewhere and watch my children teach their children those same lessons and know in that moment that whatever I did worked.
But to see this man's love for his mother spelled out in 140 characters of brutal honesty and sincerer sentiment than any Hallmark card could ever hope to possess, I admit I want to be loved like that.
So, Patricia Lyons Simon Newman, know this: you did an excellent job raising what appears to be a thoughtful and loving man. But you also inspired me again today to continue trying to be the best mother to my boys I know how so that one day, they too will hold me in their arms and realize the symmetry of our love.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Leaning is the First Step
I read Lean In awhile ago and promised I'd write up a review since it spoke to me, my situation and the struggles I, and most of the women I know (working moms, single moms, at home moms, women without children...), face on a daily basis. But, life gets in the way from such high-minded posts that warrant citations and research and balance. So, screw it. I let it go. And, frankly, plenty of folks have been writing about Sheryl Sandberg and her book and its merits and failings that you can certainly do the research on your own.
Here is what I will say: read it. Is it the feminist manifesto of our generation? Nope. Does it address every woman's situation and how to solve it? Not at all. Did it look at what number of women get frustrated with the corporate culture and seek flexibility in starting their own businesses, running for local offices, serving in influential volunteer positions? I wish it had. What it is, is a clear dissemination of personal experience backed by sociological research that addresses one woman's observations and experiences. I believe we can all learn from that experience. It doesn't mean that I think we all are going to go out and aim for the C-suite, nor do I think that was her point. What I do think it does, or at least it did for me, was point out areas that I related to and has influenced how I think about particular situations.
For instance, a recent announcement at work was approaching. The event was to take place in Denver. An agency had been hired to handle event details, our marketing team was on top of visual details, and I was to handle media relations. I really wanted to go, but was terrified. It was my first work trip in more than 7 years. I wasn't afraid of the travel or being away from the kids (a night in a hotel by myself? Hello?!), but I was afraid I'd somehow lost my work chops. I went back and forth in my head about whether I should go or could handle the work from Atlanta. I nearly talked myself out of going. Finally, I decided to face that fear and go. And it was a great event.
The fear I felt was silly in that I knew I'd have fun, I knew I could do the job and I knew I had the babysitter and hubby at home making sure the home fires were burning and the kids weren't the ones responsible for setting them. But feel it, I did, because I had a blank space on my resume taunting me, needling at me from the inside making me think that, indeed, I couldn't do it.
The concept of "leaning in," of focusing on what you want, standing up to obstacles (like fear) that stand in the way, speaking up, asking for help, realizing your self-worth, abolishing those demons that whisper in your ears nasty phrases like "maybe you can't," "maybe you shouldn't," "you aren't good enough," "someone will realize you aren't as good/smart/talented as you think you are," is something we should all be reminded of whether you are hoping to go back to work after an absence raising kids, demand a flexible situation with your boss, seeking a seat on a local volunteer organization, starting a small business, writing a novel after the kids go to bed, running for school board or aiming for the top job in a Fortune 500 company. Leaning in can mean standing up for your marriage and family by creating better partnerships with your spouse or recognizing the importance of date night or suggesting tech-free time on weekends. Leaning in can mean letting go of your preconceived notions of what work/life balance is or should be. Leaning in can mean letting in help from family, friends, nannies, colleagues. Leaning in can mean leaning back and finding the right path for you.
And that's where I find myself now.
Growing up, I always answered "writer" to the what do you want to be when you grow up question. Yet, even as a child, I felt a nagging tug in my gut that it was as frivolous an answer as astronaut or president. Sure, some of the kids in your class might end up on such prestigious or adventurous paths, but the majority would surely be regular folks with respectable jobs and content families at suburban soccer fields on Saturday mornings. We want our kids to dream, however, and imagine a future filled with endless possibilities. My name on a book spine was mine.
And then I grew up.
I never took a creative writing class in college. Never even considered it. And looking back, I can't even tell you why. I don't think my parents ever pressured me or insinuated it was impractical. Somewhere along the way, however, I focused on the dependable, the certainty, the safe. Luckily, I found the journalism school - I could write with a paycheck. The public relations track was even better - I could foster that creative side with writing skills and perhaps be satisfied.
And I have been. I love PR. I enjoy solving problems, finding the right avenues to solve them, communicating with people, sharing stories, seeing our news in print. But it's not the writing I dreamed of. It's not the writing that inspired me as a second grader with her nose stuck in a Beverly Cleary book all afternoon. It's not the writing I still long to do.
But there's that little demon voice again. "You can't write a novel," it whispers. "You don't have time," it teases. "It's too much work," it whines.
The hubby and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary this past week. We tend to spend those dates looking back and assessing the last year, looking forward to the next, wanting to support each other to succeed as individuals while also bolstering our marriage as the backbone of our family. And, of course, my writing dreams came up again over dinner. We talked a lot about the fears I have, the mental blocks, the defenses the demons have built up to prevent me from taking action when I finally said, "I don't know why I don't just do it. I'm already not a published author, so why am I afraid to write a book that might not be published? At least then I can say I did it."
Since then, I've been thinking a lot about that statement. Writing may not bring me fame or fortune or movie deals or the New York Times best seller list, but it brings me joy. So why don't I just go for it? I'm no worse off. At the end of the day, I may never see my name on a book spine, but it's already not there and I'm pretty happy with life as it is.
So, I'm leaning in. Leaning in to the demons and telling them, "I can do it," "I'll make time," and "Of course it's work, that's why I'm doing it."
Strangely enough, on that flight out to Denver for the work trip, I banged out three pages of what I think is the start of something interesting. I like that saying yes to one part of my life didn't mean no to the rest.
The best part of leaning in is that it moves you forward.
Here is what I will say: read it. Is it the feminist manifesto of our generation? Nope. Does it address every woman's situation and how to solve it? Not at all. Did it look at what number of women get frustrated with the corporate culture and seek flexibility in starting their own businesses, running for local offices, serving in influential volunteer positions? I wish it had. What it is, is a clear dissemination of personal experience backed by sociological research that addresses one woman's observations and experiences. I believe we can all learn from that experience. It doesn't mean that I think we all are going to go out and aim for the C-suite, nor do I think that was her point. What I do think it does, or at least it did for me, was point out areas that I related to and has influenced how I think about particular situations.
For instance, a recent announcement at work was approaching. The event was to take place in Denver. An agency had been hired to handle event details, our marketing team was on top of visual details, and I was to handle media relations. I really wanted to go, but was terrified. It was my first work trip in more than 7 years. I wasn't afraid of the travel or being away from the kids (a night in a hotel by myself? Hello?!), but I was afraid I'd somehow lost my work chops. I went back and forth in my head about whether I should go or could handle the work from Atlanta. I nearly talked myself out of going. Finally, I decided to face that fear and go. And it was a great event.
The fear I felt was silly in that I knew I'd have fun, I knew I could do the job and I knew I had the babysitter and hubby at home making sure the home fires were burning and the kids weren't the ones responsible for setting them. But feel it, I did, because I had a blank space on my resume taunting me, needling at me from the inside making me think that, indeed, I couldn't do it.
The concept of "leaning in," of focusing on what you want, standing up to obstacles (like fear) that stand in the way, speaking up, asking for help, realizing your self-worth, abolishing those demons that whisper in your ears nasty phrases like "maybe you can't," "maybe you shouldn't," "you aren't good enough," "someone will realize you aren't as good/smart/talented as you think you are," is something we should all be reminded of whether you are hoping to go back to work after an absence raising kids, demand a flexible situation with your boss, seeking a seat on a local volunteer organization, starting a small business, writing a novel after the kids go to bed, running for school board or aiming for the top job in a Fortune 500 company. Leaning in can mean standing up for your marriage and family by creating better partnerships with your spouse or recognizing the importance of date night or suggesting tech-free time on weekends. Leaning in can mean letting go of your preconceived notions of what work/life balance is or should be. Leaning in can mean letting in help from family, friends, nannies, colleagues. Leaning in can mean leaning back and finding the right path for you.
And that's where I find myself now.
Growing up, I always answered "writer" to the what do you want to be when you grow up question. Yet, even as a child, I felt a nagging tug in my gut that it was as frivolous an answer as astronaut or president. Sure, some of the kids in your class might end up on such prestigious or adventurous paths, but the majority would surely be regular folks with respectable jobs and content families at suburban soccer fields on Saturday mornings. We want our kids to dream, however, and imagine a future filled with endless possibilities. My name on a book spine was mine.
And then I grew up.
I never took a creative writing class in college. Never even considered it. And looking back, I can't even tell you why. I don't think my parents ever pressured me or insinuated it was impractical. Somewhere along the way, however, I focused on the dependable, the certainty, the safe. Luckily, I found the journalism school - I could write with a paycheck. The public relations track was even better - I could foster that creative side with writing skills and perhaps be satisfied.
And I have been. I love PR. I enjoy solving problems, finding the right avenues to solve them, communicating with people, sharing stories, seeing our news in print. But it's not the writing I dreamed of. It's not the writing that inspired me as a second grader with her nose stuck in a Beverly Cleary book all afternoon. It's not the writing I still long to do.
But there's that little demon voice again. "You can't write a novel," it whispers. "You don't have time," it teases. "It's too much work," it whines.
The hubby and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary this past week. We tend to spend those dates looking back and assessing the last year, looking forward to the next, wanting to support each other to succeed as individuals while also bolstering our marriage as the backbone of our family. And, of course, my writing dreams came up again over dinner. We talked a lot about the fears I have, the mental blocks, the defenses the demons have built up to prevent me from taking action when I finally said, "I don't know why I don't just do it. I'm already not a published author, so why am I afraid to write a book that might not be published? At least then I can say I did it."
Since then, I've been thinking a lot about that statement. Writing may not bring me fame or fortune or movie deals or the New York Times best seller list, but it brings me joy. So why don't I just go for it? I'm no worse off. At the end of the day, I may never see my name on a book spine, but it's already not there and I'm pretty happy with life as it is.
So, I'm leaning in. Leaning in to the demons and telling them, "I can do it," "I'll make time," and "Of course it's work, that's why I'm doing it."
Strangely enough, on that flight out to Denver for the work trip, I banged out three pages of what I think is the start of something interesting. I like that saying yes to one part of my life didn't mean no to the rest.
The best part of leaning in is that it moves you forward.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Brothers
We're well into our summer here in Atlanta and with that has been the challenge of keeping the kids stimulated, busy and happy. With two active boys, it can be quite difficult to walk the line between two kids playing peacefully together and all hell breaking lose when one oversteps the unclear boundaries, knocks over the Lego tower or picks the wrong car to play with.
I can't count the number of times I yell "Boys!" down the hallway or "Work it out!" or "Use your words!"Some days it seems like I'm more referee than mom and I'm exhausted from the cacophony of whining complaints about what the other is doing and the timeouts for grabbing/shoving/hitting.
Don't get me wrong. There are moments of pure brilliance. Of the older one teaching the younger how to do something better. Of one building off the game of another and creating a brand new adventure. Of giggling. Of love...
...because, I have discovered, apparently the older one sneaks out of the top bunk to tuck the 3 year old in after he falls asleep. Tuck him in. Seriously? How absolutely adorable is that?
So now, when they are at each other's throats about whose turn it is to pick the TV show tomorrow, I'll just remember, that behind closed doors, in the quiet of the night, they will still take care of each other.
I can't count the number of times I yell "Boys!" down the hallway or "Work it out!" or "Use your words!"Some days it seems like I'm more referee than mom and I'm exhausted from the cacophony of whining complaints about what the other is doing and the timeouts for grabbing/shoving/hitting.
Don't get me wrong. There are moments of pure brilliance. Of the older one teaching the younger how to do something better. Of one building off the game of another and creating a brand new adventure. Of giggling. Of love...
...because, I have discovered, apparently the older one sneaks out of the top bunk to tuck the 3 year old in after he falls asleep. Tuck him in. Seriously? How absolutely adorable is that?
So now, when they are at each other's throats about whose turn it is to pick the TV show tomorrow, I'll just remember, that behind closed doors, in the quiet of the night, they will still take care of each other.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Confessions
I have a confession to make.
Today, I am shopping for flats.
*GASP*
Actually, shopping for flats isn't itself an inherently shocking thing for me. After all, what do you think I wear to the playground, grocery store, play date, school function?
But today, I am shopping for flats to wear to work. Specifically, an out of town work event.
Don't get me wrong, I wear flats to work. But typically, work is when the heels come out. My selection of heels is quite small now, compared to my full-time, pre-kids days. But slapping on a pair to head to the office for a couple of hours with a cute skirt or nice pair of jeans makes me feel like I'm putting on the uniform. It mentally sets me up for "professional me" space and separates me from the play-doh playing, train track building and PB&J making of the rest of my day.
The fact of the matter is, wearing heels on flights, trudging through airports, plus all day at a press event just makes my achilles shudder at the thought. I want to look great, but be comfortably confident, not wishing for a chair to sit in. And the sad fact is that most of my heels are battle worn from the playground, grocery store, play date and school functions.
It's time for a new pair.
Add all this to the fact that this will be my first work trip in seven years and mama just needs to make sure she is arriving with not just her press releases, media lists and lap top, but with her mojo.
For me, looking the part helps drive the inner confidence. Maybe it's vanity, maybe it's a distraction tactic to get me through the weekend so I don't focus too much on the anxiety, maybe it's a little of both or neither. Whatever the subconscious reason, I know that if I can find just the right pair of sassy flats to pair with the black pencil skirt, I'll be comfortable inside...and out.
Today, I am shopping for flats.
*GASP*
Actually, shopping for flats isn't itself an inherently shocking thing for me. After all, what do you think I wear to the playground, grocery store, play date, school function?
But today, I am shopping for flats to wear to work. Specifically, an out of town work event.
Don't get me wrong, I wear flats to work. But typically, work is when the heels come out. My selection of heels is quite small now, compared to my full-time, pre-kids days. But slapping on a pair to head to the office for a couple of hours with a cute skirt or nice pair of jeans makes me feel like I'm putting on the uniform. It mentally sets me up for "professional me" space and separates me from the play-doh playing, train track building and PB&J making of the rest of my day.
The fact of the matter is, wearing heels on flights, trudging through airports, plus all day at a press event just makes my achilles shudder at the thought. I want to look great, but be comfortably confident, not wishing for a chair to sit in. And the sad fact is that most of my heels are battle worn from the playground, grocery store, play date and school functions.
It's time for a new pair.
Add all this to the fact that this will be my first work trip in seven years and mama just needs to make sure she is arriving with not just her press releases, media lists and lap top, but with her mojo.
For me, looking the part helps drive the inner confidence. Maybe it's vanity, maybe it's a distraction tactic to get me through the weekend so I don't focus too much on the anxiety, maybe it's a little of both or neither. Whatever the subconscious reason, I know that if I can find just the right pair of sassy flats to pair with the black pencil skirt, I'll be comfortable inside...and out.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Second Guesses
Wednesday is the last day of school. The last few weeks have been filled with field days and muffins for moms and class picnics and in-class activities and after school activities and teacher appreciation and theme days and just about more than I can handle on top of our regular life.
At the little guy's preschool muffins for moms a few weeks ago, a day in which I was having to sneak him out of school early to drop him home with a brand new babysitter (stressful enough) to rush back out to a working lunch meeting, his teacher's mentioned they would be moving his class end of year party to the Monday of the last week of school instead of the actual last day of school.
And then I never heard anything else about it.
So this weekend, as I prepped for the week of swim lessons and end of year teacher errands on top of planning for a week-long road trip we're leaving for Saturday, I thought about the class party. I realized I hadn't received an email about the date switch and I did not take steps to email the class moms or teachers and headed into the office today.
And of course that party was still today. And I missed it.
Now, I sort of knew that would probably happen. After all, they did make a semi-announcement. But without a reminder or a nudge or a time, well, I felt pulled enough this week and chose to ignore it.
Then proceeded to feel guilty about it when it was confirmed that I wasn't there.
I make it to 99% of all my kids' activities. Working part time has been a struggle to make that work when events inevitably fall during the same times I've allotted to be in the office and the last month has made it ridiculously stressful. I don't want to miss my children's field days and sing-alongs, but I also have a professional responsibility. It's a constant struggle to find time. With Kindergarten splash down (hello, fire trucks to spray water on my 6 year old - totally NOT missing that) coming up Wednesday and our summer babysitter not yet available for the rest of the week, I consciously chose to turn a blind eye to the three year old's end of year party so I didn't miss a complete week in the office.
Did it make me feel guilty? Yup. Will he remember? Probably not. Was his experience less because I wasn't there? Surely not. Did he mention I wasn't there? Yes. But, I do realize that sometimes I have to chose. And in the grand scheme of things, not watching my three year old eat a cupcake on his last Monday of school was the least impactful choice to make.
With all the talk of leaning in, sometimes I just need to stand up straight or I might fall over.
At the little guy's preschool muffins for moms a few weeks ago, a day in which I was having to sneak him out of school early to drop him home with a brand new babysitter (stressful enough) to rush back out to a working lunch meeting, his teacher's mentioned they would be moving his class end of year party to the Monday of the last week of school instead of the actual last day of school.
And then I never heard anything else about it.
So this weekend, as I prepped for the week of swim lessons and end of year teacher errands on top of planning for a week-long road trip we're leaving for Saturday, I thought about the class party. I realized I hadn't received an email about the date switch and I did not take steps to email the class moms or teachers and headed into the office today.
And of course that party was still today. And I missed it.
Now, I sort of knew that would probably happen. After all, they did make a semi-announcement. But without a reminder or a nudge or a time, well, I felt pulled enough this week and chose to ignore it.
Then proceeded to feel guilty about it when it was confirmed that I wasn't there.
I make it to 99% of all my kids' activities. Working part time has been a struggle to make that work when events inevitably fall during the same times I've allotted to be in the office and the last month has made it ridiculously stressful. I don't want to miss my children's field days and sing-alongs, but I also have a professional responsibility. It's a constant struggle to find time. With Kindergarten splash down (hello, fire trucks to spray water on my 6 year old - totally NOT missing that) coming up Wednesday and our summer babysitter not yet available for the rest of the week, I consciously chose to turn a blind eye to the three year old's end of year party so I didn't miss a complete week in the office.
Did it make me feel guilty? Yup. Will he remember? Probably not. Was his experience less because I wasn't there? Surely not. Did he mention I wasn't there? Yes. But, I do realize that sometimes I have to chose. And in the grand scheme of things, not watching my three year old eat a cupcake on his last Monday of school was the least impactful choice to make.
With all the talk of leaning in, sometimes I just need to stand up straight or I might fall over.
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