An overdue role reversal

Last week when I was working, Mark invited two fathers and their children over for an afternoon of play.

While the six children (four girls, including our two, plus two boys) disassembled my house room by room played, the dads shot pool and (are you ready for this?) . . . baked brownies.

Yep, that’s right. Three dads. In our kitchen. At 2 p.m. on a Tuesday. Baking. Brownies.

I don’t mean to make fun of this event. In fact, I think it’s incredibly cool that right there in our little New Jersey town there is a growing contingent of families with, shall we say, modern work and child-care arrangements.

As you may know, Mark and I both work part-time and share child -care so whoever is not working on a given day has the kids. One of the other dads who was there works full-time, but in a hospital where he logs nights and weekends. He cares for the kids on certain weekdays while his wife works a part-time job. And the third dad is full-time stay-at-home-father. His wife leaves the house in the wee hours of the morning and does not return until dinner.

I find it cool and inspiring that these “alternative” child-care arrangements are becoming more common. It sure has taken long enough to get to this point. As little as five years ago, the scene that unfolded in my kitchen would never have happened outside of silly movies staring Tom Selleck, Ted Danson and that other guy whose name I can’t remember.

Five years ago, when Mark and I first started telling people what we planned to do the reactions were interesting. Everyone had encouraging words, but it was clear that not everyone truly felt enthusiastic. A fair number gave us a skeptical head tilt and a “that’s interesting” expression even as they said things like, “oh, that’s cool.”

Now when we talk about our arrangement, people zestfully praise us and often say something like, “I wish my company would let me do that.”

It really is a shame that more companies don’t allow flexible and untraditional work weeks. Because really, as long as the work gets done well and on time, who cares what time of day the employee sat down to do it? I bet there are lots of husbands out there who would love to bake brownies and hang with their kids on a Tuesday afternoon. And I bet there are lots of wives who would relish a job that allows them to think and talk to other adults for a few hours a week. Maybe someday we can evolve enough to let more of them do just that.

Statistics from a bad commute home

Time I left the office: 5:15 p.m.
Miles traveled: 38
Average time commute home takes: 49 minutes
Snowfall by 5:15 p.m. last night: about 3 inches, and still coming hard.
Number of stops to clean ice off windshield wipers: 2
Average speed on drive home: 29 mph
Number of Cokes consumed: 1
Number of cars seen stuck on hills: 4
Number of accidents seen off on shoulder: 3
Number of tractor trailers that flew by me at normal speed: at least 10
Number of times I prayed out loud: 638
Actual commuting time last night: 2 hours, 43 minutes
Number of plows/sanders seen over course of entire trip: ZERO

Nice job, NJ.
Really well executed.

Warning: Reduced speed ahead

Weeks ago, my boss and I scheduled a meeting with a client with offices in midtown Manhattan - two short blocks from Rockefeller Center.

At the time, we did not give much thought to the fact that it was a 3 p.m. meeting.
Nor did we think about the fact that we would officially be in the thick of "Holiday Season" in New York.
We did not think about the fact that it was likely to be a "Gridlock Alert Day."
And we certainly did not think that this day, of all days, was when they were lighting the Rock Center Christmas tree.

Duh.



5:36 p.m. West Side Highway, NYC.

Wow! Look how green that grass is over there.

For those of you who don’t know me personally, I work part time. I go into my office two days a week, and work a few additional hours at home on the other three days. I work hard to keep a balance and keep all my clients – the big ones at work and the wee ones here at home – happy.

Last week, I had to go to work two days in a row. I chugged up to my office on Tuesday and then again on Wednesday. Doing two days in a row out of the house is not ideal for a number of reasons, but sometimes that’s just the way it has to be and we all make the best of it.

By the time I got home Wednesday night, I was tired of work and in serious withdrawal. All I wanted was to talk with, sit with, read to and cuddle my girls. And I did. A lot.

Then came Thursday. And Friday. And Saturday. And today.

Over the past four days, I have endured an unknown number of tantrums, crying fits, fights, screeching, whining and drama. I have fixed 10 meals, fetched an unknown number of snacks and poured copious quantities of milk and juice.

I have played too many rounds of Candy Land and I have participated in a seemingly endless stream of role-playing games. I have been the Beast, Cinderella’s wicked stepmother, Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty, and Grumpy from Snow White (and no, it’s not lost on me that I am always assigned the roles of the meanest, ugliest characters – what the hell?)

Don't get me wrong, we had a lot of fun too. We played outside and sang silly songs and colored and read a bunch of stories. We went to Target and had a great time oogling the well decorated Christmas section. We watched a movie together nestled under a big blanket. But right now, I'm desperate for a change of pace.

Tomorrow, I am off to work and I'm really looking forward to it. I love my children more than I can even articulate, but those two days give me a chance to catch my breath and appreciate so much more what I have - in both of my roles. Going to work makes me a better mother and being at home makes me a better employee. Each part of my life encourages me to pour all that I have into the other, to look down and think, "wow, look how green the grass is here under my feet," as well as to appreciate how green it grows on the other side.

Getting an F in dressing 101

Yesterday, I had a client meeting that started at 9:30 in the morning. That doesn't sound too bad, except it is about a two-and-a-half hour drive away and many of the roads there are under construction. So I decided to leave the house at 6:30 a.m. to give myself extra time.

Of course, I couldn't get to sleep for what seemed like forever. Lying there in the dark trying to coax myself into Dreamland, I thought about all the things I should bring, worried about getting lost and of course, thought about what to wear to my big meeting.

In the morning, groggy but anxious for the drive, I selected a black sheath dress with a low slung built-in "belt" that fastens off to one side. As I started dressing, Loaf began crying, so I quickly slipped the dress over my head, zipped it up the side and hurried to her room. Mark was already there, so I returned to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Makeup done, hair styled, water and snack packed, I walked out the front door. The traffic was minimal and I arrived early, so I sat in my car reviewing notes and listening to NPR for a while. Walking into the conference room, I moved to clip the "Visitor" nametag on my belt. Except, something was off. Instead of being on the front left hip, it was on the back right. What the . . . ?

As subtlety as possible, I reached up to the neckline and ran my fingers around the top of the dress. Yep, you guessed it. The tag was in the front. In my hurry to get dressed, I put the dress on backwards. Doh.

Fortunately, it's a nice dress. It's fully lined, so there weren't any seams in the front that would reveal the tag's stitching. Further, I was in a roomful of men, and we all know how observant they are when it comes to women's clothing. But funny how the tag didn't bother me at all on my three-hour drive, but as soon as I was aware of it, it picked and scratched at the front of my neck the entire meeting. I guess that's what you get for not paying attention to what you're doing.

Notepad mystery

OK, so I don't have a lot of mystery left in my life at this point (unless it's wondering if my child is going to poop in the middle of my aerobics class thus causing me to miss the entire abs segment or looking high and low for a treasured stuffed animal that seems to have disappered into thin air). But other than that, it's pretty much the same old stuff day in and day out.

Which is why I am so intrigued by what I discovered in my notepad this morning. I took this brand-new notepad, which is nothing special - just a 5"x8", white lined, 50-page ordinary pad - from my office's supply closet last week. Since then, I have used it to furiously take notes during several interviews, write down a few phone numbers, and jot some of my to-do lists.

But today as I recorded some notes from a phone interview, I flipped the page to find this scrawled smack in the middle of the pad:

HUNDRED YEARS' WAR
FRANCE & ENGLAND 1337-1453
CHARACTERS: JOAN OF ARC, SHAKS//HENRY V, HENRY VI
PART 1 (AGINCOURT?)
1154 TO THRONE HENRY
PLANTAGENET (COUNT OF ANJOU)
EDWARD (BLACK PRINCE) 1356 A.D.)

That's it. The rest of the book is blank. The handwriting is most definitely not that of any of my coworkers. So who is the author? Does someone at the TOPS Paper Company have a fetish for English history? Maybe he (or she) is an aspiring writer? Maybe I have in my hands the beginnings of a great novel or screenplay? Above all, why would you choose to put those notes in the middle of an otherwise unused notebook? And then send it down the assembly line?

Alas, I'll probably never know answers to these and other mysteries surrounding my notepad. But at least for 10 minutes today, I got to feel a bit like Robert Stack. (Yes, I really, really need to get a life.)

Freedom!

The sickness that's plagued our house this week has forced me to be a virtual shut-in. No work, no gym, not even a trip to the grocery store. My two biggest outside social interactions this week were the two times I dropped Peanut off at preschool and the short conversation I had with the woman volunteering at the voting booth. It was so bad that last night I was actually a little happy to see the mouse in the kitchen just because it was a new entity with whom I could interact.

So in light of all that, I honestly could not get out of the house fast enough this morning. Driving into work, I blasted my iPod with the most un-kid-friendly music I could muster (The Black Eyed Peas anyone?)

And instead of retreating immediately to my desk, I stood in the kitchen chatting with my coworkers over tea and cereal for several minutes. I could actually feel my brain kickstarting—going through it's own version of a sun salutation with energy flowing to every lobe that's been on hiatus this week.

For lunch? I'm heading out with a friend here to gossip, giggle and talk about anything NOT related to small children.

I love my family - clearly - more than anything. But every now and then it's nice to put on nice clothes, step outside and be reminded that there's more to life than potty training, picture books and Sesame Street.