Tag Archives: working mom


20 Apr

What is it about a cute pair of shoes that makes you feel attractice?

I’m tall (almost 6′) and it wasn’t until after high school that I began to understand and enjoy a good pair of heels.  I learned to embrace my height instead of hide behind it and now run around in 2 and 3 inch heels proudly.  (Okay, not run because I would fall flat on my face way too often, but you get the idea.)

More importantly, I learned how to walk in heels.  Nothing is sadder (more sad?  more sadder?  whatever.) than watching a girl who would otherwise be attractive stumble across a street with her legs bent oddly and her step unsure as she wears shoes that she is not comfortable in.  I wish I could go up to that girl and tap her on the shoulder and give her lessons on how to keep her shoulders down, her back straight and where on the foot to step.  One of these days, I probably will.

When I returned from maternity leave, my position changed to one that requires me to dress business casual.  Gone were the days of rolling out of bed 10 minutes before I had to leave and coming into work sometimes without even showering.

I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I am a sexy sexy creature.

Instead I now shower and have to do something with my hair and makeup as well as get dressed in real clothes again.  Let me tell you, it was WONDERFUL not having to care about what I looked like when I was pregnant.  I had severe nausea throughout all 9 months and worked up until a week before I gave birth.  There were times I spent most of the day on the floor of my cube just wanting to die.  My trashcan had a roll of plastic bags next to it in order that I may change it without having to subject my coworkers to too much vomit smell if I couldn’t make it to the bathroom.  I wish I had taken a picture of my trashcan in fact, because I gave him a face and called him Ralph since he and I got to be such very good friends.

Once again, yes, I am a very sexy creature.

Wow, that was a tangent.

But back to shoes!  Having to actually get dressed again has given me a chance to pull out my cute heels again.  My knee high boots, round toed mary janes, my adorable khaki colored peep toed pumps (the only peep toed shoes I’ve found that don’t make my feet look totally dimented) and even my wedding shoes.  I found these 4″ inch heels at Payless for $12 and fell in love immediately.  Every time I wear them, I think about the great day I first wore them and how much fun I had and it brings an extra spring to my step.

It’s always a nice reminder about how lucky I am and keeps me going through my day.

Mr. Mom

17 Apr

My husband is a stay-at-home dad.  We are so lucky that my job pays well enough to allow this and I don’t mind not being able to go out every night in order to do this (not that I ever really went out that much to begin with.  Okay, so its not like we ever went out anyways…but still!)  This works best for our financial situation as well as our temperaments and the baby’s.  She is SUCH a daddy’s girl.  There are times that she will not stop fussing until whoever is holding her hands her over to him.  She will then stop crying almost immediately.

What bothers me is the questions that I get as the working parent.  Questions that I know if the situation was reveresed and I was the stay-at-home parent would not be voiced.

“How can you handle leaving your child with your husband all day?”

“How is he able to do it?”

“Is he getting things done around the house?”

And the worst, calling him “Mr. Mom”.

The implication that I would be the better caretaker is insulting.  I will be the first to admit that I don’t have the lion’s share of the patience in the house.  Yes, I have the booby buffet and the uterus that birthed my daughter (without drugs…which is another post for the future) but that is the only things that I have that he doesn’t.

He is by far the better parent.  I’m not dissing my parenting skills necessarily.  I think I’m a pretty good mom.  I also love my daughter so much more than I ever thought.  And I’m fine with that!  But calling him Mr. Mom gets under my skin and drives me crazy.



Ryan’s post in Pacing the Panic Room made these thoughts come to a head.  The stereotyping has gotten out of control.  I understand the need for advertisements to find a niche market and play off of that.  I get it.

But don’t assume that just because I have a vajayjay I am the better parent and my husband is a bumbling idiot who I have to bribe with blowjobs and food to change a diaper.

Oh, and btw, he cooks in our house too.  I can make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich and that’s about it.

Daddy Time

Daddy Time

How’s that for breaking stereotypes?

My new best friend.

3 Apr

I have a new best friend. My pump. Four times a day at work I leave my desk and computer in the pretty Italian marble floored office and close myself for 10 minutes in a closet.

Okay, not really a closet. Our bathrooms have a shower connected to it (I know, you are totally jealous) and there is a carpeted part in the same room with lockers. I should be thankful that I have it (it has an electrical outlet) so I don’t have to sit on the toilet but sometimes it’s rough sitting in the closet that doesn’t quite have the best lighting.

I then get attacked by a vacuum to suck my essence. The worst part is that it takes more time to set up and clean up the pump than the time I spend attached to it. All to feed my precious baby soup.

The joys of working motherhood.

I really should take my best friend out to lunch one of these days soon…I wonder if she would buy me drinks…

Hello world!

10 Mar

Ahhh, Monday.

The bane of existence for many workers.  And the first Monday since coming back from maternity leave.

A Monday for a working mom is different than a regular Monday.  They’ve had a weekend to spend all day with their child(ren).  Two long days where you get to see every smile, every diaper change, ever angry moment.

Then five long days where you will miss out on it.  8+ hours away from your house, wondering what they are smiling about, what they are seeing, what they are doing.  You rush home as soon as the clock turns 5, hoping that traffic is light.  Praying that you haven’t missed the one moment they do something brand new.

You pull into your driveway, open the garage or the front door, your breath held.  Then you see them.  Your heart stops and overflows with love.

An amazing feeling.

Until you have to leave again the next day.