Motherhood Incorporated

Before my daughter was born, I was totally wrapped up in, totally in love with, the idea of being a mom.  Frankly, it’s all I’ve ever aspired to be aside from Wonder Woman.  Other little girls dreamt of a fabulous wedding with flowing white train, I dreamt only of rocking the babies.  (Hmmm… I never could envision the daddy; the other parent was always faceless and decidedly non-gender specific).

Then it happened.  And while motherhood has been unequivocally the most rewarding, amazing, and indescribably incredible experience of my life, I’m afraid that it has become my life.  Or, rather, that I have no value or identity beyond the role.  The sensation is particularly strong on days like today, when the highlight consists of attending a 30-minute toddler storytime.  And though I wouldn’t trade motherhood for anything or anyone– my daughter is the unquestioned, unrivaled love of my life–, there is always the underlying worry that I’ll end up one of those lonely helicopter parents who hover, cluelessly unwelcome, long after the chickens have flown the coop.  These parents, mostly mothers, don’t ever seem to forge an identity beyond their child(ren), and, I closeted worrier that I am, feel just a little tiny twinge of paranoia.  Me in fifteen years? Could be.

This past month, I was honored to attend the 2008 Lambda Literary Foundation Writer’s Retreat.  I met some wonderfully talented and creative people, many of them new, if transitory, teachers in this phase of my life.  Yet aside from craft technicalities and feedback, one of my most lasting impressions of this conference centered on identity concepts, from the abstract and artistic to the concrete and physical.  Frankly, the whole experience– being surrounded by GLBT-identified creators, solidified the sense in me that I, too, need to really kickstart writing, that I need to get off my rear and actively seek to form a presence undefined by conventional roles so as to shape a unique voice.

But first, I guess, I need to find it. 

by Elisa Garcia

 Antes de que mi hija naciera, tuve totalmente interesada en, totalmente enamorado con, la idea de ser una mamá. Franco, es toda lo que he aspirado … aparte de la figura de televisor, Wonder Woman! Otras niñas soñaban de una boda fabulosa con el tren blanco que fluía, y yo soñaba solamente de la oscilación de los bebés. (Hmmm… Nunca podría prever al papá; el otro pariente era siempre específico anónimo y decididamente del no-género).

Entonces sucedió. Y mientras que la maternidad ha sido inequívoco la más bella, el sorprender, y experiencia indescriptiblemente increíble de mi vida, tengo miedo que se ha convertido en mi vida. O, algo, que ya no tengo ningun valor o identidad separado de madre. La sensación es particularmente fuerte los días como hoy, cuando el punto culminante consiste en el atender de un “storytime” para hijos! Y aunque no negociaría la maternidad para cualquier cosa o cualquier persona–mi hija es el amor indiscutible, incomparable de mi vida-, hay siempre la preocupación subyacente que terminaré para arriba a uno de esos padres solos del helicóptero que asomen, desorientado incómodo, largo después de que los pollos hayan volado el tonel. Estos padres, sobre todo madres, no parecen nunca forjar una identidad más allá de su niño(s), y, pesimista que soy, sensación apenas una pequeña punzada minúscula de la paranoia. ¿Yo en quince años? Podía ser yo.

Este último mes, me honraron para atender al retratamiento para escritores 2008 de la Lambda Literary Foundation. Encontré a alguna gente maravillosamente, talentosa y creativa, muchas de ella los nuevos, si transitorios, profesores en esta fase de mi vida. Con todo aparte de tecnicidades y de la regeneración del arte, una de mis impresiones más duraderas de esta conferencia se centró en conceptos de la identidad, el del abstracto y artístico, al concreto y a la comprobación. Franco, la experiencia entera que era rodeada por los creador identificados “gay”, solidificó el sentido en mí que yo también necesito escribir sinceramente y realmente, que necesito conseguir de mi parte posterior e intentar activamente para formar una presencia indefinida por papeles convencionales para formar una voz única.

Pero primero, conjeturo, yo necesito encontrarla.

Por Elisa Garcia

I’d vote for Sandra!

http://www.inews3.com/play.php?first=Sandra&last=Beck

Cooking a full three-course meal a la “The Brady Bunch” or “Leave it to Beaver” is a nice idea, but it just isn’t realistic for today’s working mother. By the same token, nobody wants to raise their kids on pizza, fast food, and frozen chicken nuggets day in and day out. For that reason, here are a couple of quick tips on meals that can be prepared with little time and less fuss.

First, pasta is always an easy shortcut. It’s not the healthiest solution by itself, but tomato sauce is a nutritious addition that heats up in minutes. It also helps that pasta can boil relatively unsupervised (provided the kids are suitably distracted in another room).

Chef salads and bread are another easy make, and the supplies are easy to find. Lettuce, cheese, tomato, cucumber, and lunch meat all work as healthy, solid ingredients. An added bonus is letting the kids put together their own salads. All the ingredients are good for them, so it’s only a little compromising (no meat-and-cheese-only salads here!) away from a fun activity with a nutritious end.

Multi-use recipes are also helpful. Take meatballs, for example. If you use a similar recipe for meatballs that you do for meatloaf, you can make one big batch on a weekend night. Roll and spread accordingly, and you’ve got two pre-planned meals for later in the week. Add the meatballs to the aforementioned pasta and tomato sauce, and heat up a can of vegetables and an easy potato mix for the meatloaf.

Chicken breasts are another good universal food. You can drop them in Italian dressing once you buy them and throw them in the oven when you need a fast meal. You can also just drop them in a pan with some Cream of Mushroom soup, or coat them in barbecue sauce. Each preparation takes about two minutes including unwrapping and pouring time, and the final result is an easy-bake meal with a wide variety of suitable side dishes.

I’m back!

At the beginning of the month, I wrote a long, painful entry about my upcoming writer’s conference and the ensuing 8-day-long separation from my daughter.

Miraculously, she survived, as did the house, the partner, the pets, and everything else.  She was lovingly cared for by my parents and her other mommy.  She made it to swim class.  She played.  She was spoiled … and she thrived.  I won’t lie; it was a bit disconcerting to me (albeit briefly) when she’d quickly sign off after a five-second chat during our daily conversations.  (I’d be saying something along the lines of missing her terribly, and she’d interrupt with a boisterous, “I love you, bye bye!” It was beyond cute!).  But, really, I was happy that she wasn’t crying and was enjoying herself, and, apparently, not really missing me. 

And me? Well, I won’t go into all of the details, but to say that this conference was a truly transformative experience on so many levels is a huge understatement.  I met some amazing people, worked on my craft, and really, really thought about things in a way I hadn’t been able to (or afforded time to) before.  Truly transformative– and I’m confident that I’ll continue to reap the benefits for a long time to come.

But now that I’m back to being a full-time mama, it’s soooo good to be home!

by Elisa Garcia

¡Ya regrese!

 Al principio del mes, escribí una entrada larga, dolorosa sobre la conferencia de mi escritor próximo y la separación de mi hija.

Milagrosamente, ella sobrevivió, al igual que la casa, mi pareja, los animales domésticos, y todo. Mis padres y su otra mama la cuidaron cariñosamente. Ella la hizo para nadar la clase. Ella jugó. La estropearon… y ella prosperó. No mentiré; era un pedacito que descomponía a mí (no obstante brevemente) cuando ella firmaría rápidamente apagado después de que una cinco-segunda charla durante nuestras conversaciones diarias. (Estaría diciendo algo a lo largo de las líneas de faltarla terrible, y ella interrumpiría con un bullicioso, “te amo, adiós!” Estaba muy curioso!). Pero, realmente, era feliz que ella no gritaba y se gozaba, y, al parecer, no realmente me extrane.

¿Y yo? Bien, no entraré todos los detalles, pero decir que esta conferencia era una experiencia verdaderamente transformativa en así que muchos niveles son una subestimación enorme. Encontré a alguna gente asombrosa, trabajé en mi arte, y realmente, pensó realmente en cosas de una manera que no había podido (o tiempo producido) antes. Verdaderamente transformativo y yo se sienten confiado que continuaré cosechando las ventajas por muchos años. ¡Pero ahora que estoy de nuevo a ser una mama a tiempo completo, es muuuuuy bueno estar acqui en mi hogar!

Por Elisa Garcia

by: Sonia Nunez 

If you have unexpected company coming, there are some things you can do to make your house at least look and feel clean, even if you don’t have time for a full cleaning.

 Grab a laundry basket or similar container and run through the front rooms picking up clutter.  Remember to go through the basket later and put things where they belong – you don’t want to lose that heating bill or favorite paperback! Do a quick clean of the bathrooms – use a paper towel and window cleaner to wipe down the faucets, sink, and mirror.  Use a wet rag to wipe the counter.  Close the shower curtain to hide the tub.  Spray the toilet and clean it quickly; take your used rag and wipe down the seat, lid, and tank.   Only vacuum the rooms your guest will see; you can also quickly vacuum the kitchen and bathroom floors to get up any dirt there.  

www.motherhoodincorporated.com

I am currently recovering from cosmetic surgery. When I was pregnant, I knew I was only going to be pregnant once. I enjoyed nine months of Foodie-Free-For-All! It was the most amazing supersized, sour cream covered, extra cheese, double pepperoni, whole milk, sugar coated nine months of my life. At the end, however, I was one beautiful daughter and seventy-five pounds richer. My doctor was not impressed.

 A couple of diets and several months of hardcore exercising later, I lost seventy-four pounds (I really hate that last pound). I found myself fitting into my pre-pregnancy jeans, but I was still a mess! I had too much skin, too many stretch marks, and not enough patience for all-natural methods of regaining my twenty-five year old body. After considerable research and numerous consultations, I had a tummy-tuck on Thursday. My doctor warned me about the many, many drawbacks of a tummy tuck. My back hurts because I can’t sit straight. My stomach hurts because most of it is missing. My muscles hurt because I can barely move. More than all of this, however, is the pain that comes from taking a “Mommy break.”

I can’t lift my daughter for a while, so I have made sure to have extra help around the house. I have ensured that the sitter we trust the most will come over everyday to help care for my daughter under my watchful eye. This fabulous babysitter knows my methods for feeding, cleaning, changing, and scheduling my daughter’s day. Today, however, on my second day of recovery, I realize I forgot to prepare one person: my husband.

Let me begin by assuring everyone, myself included, that my husband is a fabulous father. He loves our daughter more than I could have possibly hoped for, and they are great friends. I, however, come from a long line of people who have a specific way of doing things at a specific time with no justifiable reason for doing things any differently (read: Control Freaks).

I don’t understand why my dear husband fed our daughter breakfast a half an hour later than usual. I cannot fathom why she had lunch an hour later than normal, and I’m completely lost as to why it would be acceptable for her to wear her pajamas four hours after the time she normally gets dressed. As I sit in my carefully-poised-position-of-pain, I ruminate about which part of this situation is worse: the fact that I can’t care for my daughter the way I see fit or the fact that I can’t seem to handle letting my husband take control.

Fortunately, we all have a good sense of humor about this. At eight months old, my daughter seems to be recovering nicely from her late start to her day. My husband is laughing good-naturedly at my cruise director tendencies where our daughter is concerned. And me? Well, I’m working on it. I would like to say that I have whole-heartedly accepted my lack of control, but I would be lying. Although I know in my heart of hearts that my husband knows what he is doing and my baby will be fine, I can’t help but think that nobody can play mommy to my baby as well as I can.

by: Sonia Nunez

Any wood floor can be cleaned with a quarter-cup of apple cider vinegar mixed with a gallon of warm water.  Never get wood floors too wet or allow them to dry naturally.  Finished wood floors often can be cleaned just with water.  However, the finish will eventually wear off, and you’ll either have to re-finish the floors or start waxing them.  Additionally, if you do not dry the wood floors after cleaning them, the water will leave unsightly marks.

 When it comes to marble or granite, such as for countertops, always clean them according to the manufacturer’s directions, usually available from the company that installs them.  Never use anything other than what’s recommended, or anything abrasive, such as powdered cleansers, steel wool, metal scrapers, wire brushes, and so on.  These products are porous and still sensitive, and can be scratched. Wooden cabinets in the kitchen probably will do well with a mild degreaser.  Laminate cabinets can be washed with a degreaser or a product like Fantastik.  Make sure you wash around the handles especially, where there is a buildup of not only kitchen grease, but oils from your hands as well. 

Cleaning the face of a fireplace is a project that demands patience.  Fireplace stone and brick may be hard, but they’re also porous.  This means it has plenty of tiny holes for soil to accumulate in. Cleansers designed specifically for fireplaces are available at most home stores.  You can even purchase ones with a slight tint to them, to bring your older fireplace back to life.  Make sure the floor around the fireplace is covered with a drop-cloth, as these tinted cleansers can stain other surfaces. The best way to clean windows, or any large expanse of glass, is with a squeegee.  It does a faster and better job.  You need a professional-quality squeegee and a window wand.  If you’ll be cleaning high windows, you also will need an extension pole.  The basic process is simple – apply the cleaning solution with the window wand and pull the dirt and water off with the squeegee.www.motherhoodincorporated.com  

By Nicole Perkins

Last week was my daughter’s first week of kindergarten – yes, she passed her test to start early – and she loves it! I am truly astounded at the work she has brought home, there haven’t been any incidents at school, she already has told me she can walk from the truck herself, and her enthusiasm is boundless. Her only complaint is that recess is too hot and I couldn’t sympathize more! She’s just so cute and independant – naturally I fought back tears all week.

There’s just one little hiccup. At some point within the first hour after school, she has a completely irrational meltdown, over nothing. She started school last Wednesday and had one instantly because I tried to help her into the truck, (for which she apologized later, completely unprompted which was so sweet). Thursday, same thing, although directed at her brother this time because he got to put more groceries on the conveyor belt at the market. And Friday, I tried to head it off at the pass and take them for ice cream to celebrate her first week, and she lost it in the middle of Dairy Queen.

So this weekend, my husband and I had quite a few talks about it, brainstorming all weekend about the cause(s) and possible solution(s). Is she just tired, getting used to the new schedule, using all of her good behavior at school, only to collapse the minute she gets home, resentment over the new rapport her brother and I are developing, feeling a little left out, or is it things she’s picking up from other kids at school? My first instinct is to try and nip it in the bud immediately before it becomes a routine.

But after talking with some other moms in my neighborhood whose children also just started, it appears to be epidemic. So I’ve decided not to panic or do anything drastic to our routine. I’m sure it’s a combination of a lot of things and with such a big change in her life (and ours!), it’s even more important for me to be patient and supportive. The last thing she needs right now is more change.

For now we’ll just come straight home every day to decompress until she gets into the swing of things. The word on the street is that it takes about a month for all the wrinkles to iron out which seems perfectly resonable. So, since I’m clearly not the only one who has, or is, experiencing this, any suggestions or personal stories would be of great service to all of us first-timers who are sending a child out into the world. We look forward to your comments!

I have always believed that Back to School sales are a special treat designed just for people like me.  People like me go shopping all the time.  We store things in closets; we prepare for the future, and we only buy things on sale.  Oh, and a sale price means it is something we obviously need.  Now.

The coolest person in the world, aka my daughter, is eight months old.  Many would say she is too young for Back to School sales.  I, on the other hand, am in my mid-twenties.  Many would say I am too old for Back to School sales.  All of these people would be mistaken.

 The trick to taking advantage of sales is to look at the right time, look for the right stuff, never get discouraged, and don’t overpay.  For example, Back to School Sales often means stores are also trying to get rid of their summer stock.  This is a particular advantage for those of us living in climate-controlled states (Texas, Arizona, California, etc.) where August wear is all too often December wear.  By shopping the $2.79 rack at JC Penney, I was able to purchase my daughter’s entire twelve-month wardrobe for approximately $30!  By purchasing layers, we are now equipped for thirty to sixty degree weather.  We also waited unti after the first week of the sale had ended.  While this meant the selections were picked over, it also meant we were able to enjoy our shopping trip battle-free.

 Of course, we can’t have my fabulously-dressed daughter off cavorting with a shabby-looking mother.  Although we are unlikely to find New York & Company having a Back to School sale, a sale is a sale is a sale.  In other words, it’s the end of the season for them too.  Sales galore!  What’s more, anything I didn’t find now I can pay more for later and still save money because of the tax-free weekend. 

With our clothing bags in hand, my daughter and I had a successful, budgeted trip.  However, Back to School sales don’t end at clothing.  Off to the closest department store, and we were soon lugging several additional bags of pens, pencils, notebooks, markers, highlighters, tape, ziploc bags, tupperware, planners, folders, binders, filler paper, printing paper, magnets, kleenex, hand sanitizer, and so much more.  Although we are both far from the ages where traditional school supplies are required, these are all supplies we use in my house on a fairly regular basis, and they all have incredibly low prices thanks to Back to School sales.  My daughter even got her first schooly supply ever: a box of jumbo crayons!

Now the point of all this is not to tell everyone about the fantastic time I had with my daughter.  Instead, the point is to share my good fortune with everyone else so they can take advantage of Back to School sales as well.  Of course, in a few weeks the Back to School sales will dwindle to nothing.  Prices will go back to normal, and sales racks will be cleared.  For many of the people like me, a depression will begin to settle.  Not me, however!  The end of Back to School sales means only 75 days until Black Friday!

by: Sonia Nunez

In addition to cleaning wood floors, Murphy Oil Soap makes a great laundry pre-spotter, especially on organic stains like grass or blood.

 Bleach is not a “cure all” for housecleaning.  It typically doesn’t work on floor grout, for example, or rust stains.  Use the right cleaner for these areas and spots.                       For hard water stains around your faucets, use CLR or Lime-Away.  You can also buy muriatic acid at the hardware or home supply store, and cut it with water, but be careful of doing this.  Muriatic acid is highly toxic and has heavy fumes; you may be better off purchasing the other products mentioned and using those.

 Wipe down mini-blinds with a damp fabric softener sheet.  This eliminates the static that causes dust to stick.  The same trick works for TV and monitor screens. Many stains should be addressed with products designed specifically for them, for example, pet stains.  If your pet has soiled your carpet or furniture, purchase a product from your pet supply store for just such problems and use them according to the directions on their label.  Don’t think that regular carpet or upholstery cleaners will do the job – usually these just aren’t strong enough. Squeegee water off shower walls and doors after every use or wipe them down with a towel; this prevents mold and soap scum buildup.  Keep the squeegee in the shower for such use.  For tile walls or frosted shower doors, apply a light coating of lemon oil periodically to help prevent build-up.  For a porcelain tub, apply a light coat of boat or car wax to the sides (never the bottom) of the tub. www.motherhoodincorporated.com

This Sunday, I am leaving my child. 

I will travel nearly two thousand miles from Houston to L.A. for a week-long writers’ conference.

Though I am honored beyond belief to have been accepted into this year’s Lambda Literary Foundation retreat, I am torn: The writer in me is excited, thrilled, really, at the opportunity I’ve been awarded; the mother in me, which encompasses ALL of me, really, is heartbroken.

The writer in me yearns for the constructive feedback of fellow scribes and jumps at the chance to hone my craft, a craft long-neglected in favor of earning money through more lucrative means.  Spending more than twenty minutes at a time immersed in and singularly focused on creating my own work is a luxury I ceased to enjoy when my daughter, Alina, arrived three years ago.  I am– dare I admit it?– selfishly anticipating this unfettered artist’s time, shamefully but secretly joyous at the prospect of one week sans client demands, proposal submissions, housecleaning, and, mostly, embarrassingly, caregiving.  I’ll write, eat, talk, sleep, and drive … without interruption.  This is, after all, a week for me.

Yet the mother in me immediately saddened when I read my acceptance e-mail; my celebration was tempered by tears in a truly maddening confluence of mixed emotions.  Honestly, I never thought I’d get in.  But once I did, my mind erupted.  How, I wondered, could I survive a week without my baby? Without her starfish hands, princess costumes, sweetly uttered manners (“Thank you, Mama.  I love you”, she says when I hand her a cup)? Without her daredevil monkey climbing, devil-may-care dancing, and sticky ketchup kisses? How?

Our financial circumstances are such that I have to attend this conference alone.  No traveling au pair or well-meaning family member here.  And, truth be told, my partner and I are scrimping just to afford my portion of this trip.  Though this separation will be among the most emotionally difficult periods I’ve yet to endure, both the writer and mother in me agree that this conference is a door-opening opportunity that can only serve to benefit my professional– and therefore– personal and family situations.  At least, on that we agree. 

And at the risk of sounding whiny, I do realize that scores of other parents are separated from their children, often for much longer periods.  Military parents are the noblest examples of this; they must, I am convinced, possess some kind of amazing fortitude. I know my daughter will be in the most capable of hands during my absence, those of her other mother’s and her grandparents’.  I know she will be fine and that she will not (I hope) sustain any long-term emotional scarring.  (Of course, the irrational worrywart in me fears a manifestation of abandonment issues and immediately pictured a grown-up Alina lying on some shrink’s couch, spending thousands on therapy, the moment I knew I was leaving!) I know that my darling partner, whom I’ll also terribly miss, will ease our daughters’ fears and sail beautifully through the week even as she juggles home, family, and work alone.  I know I have nothing to fear.

Except– I already miss my baby. 

How on Earth do parents do this?

 by Elisa Garcia  

Este domingo, estoy dejando a mi niña.

Viajaré casi dos mil millas de Houston a L.A. por una semana para una conferencia de los escritores.  Aunque me honran más allá de creencia para haber sido aceptado en el Lambda Literary Foundation retreat, me rasgan: El escritor en mí es emocionado, emocionado, realmente, en la oportunidad que me han concedido; la madre en mí, que abarca a TODO EL mí, es realmente afligida.

El escritor adentro de mi anhela para la regeneración constructiva de escribanos compañeros y de saltos en la ocasión de afilar con piedra mi arte, un arte largo-descuidado a favor del dinero de la ganancia con medios más lucrativos. Pasar más de veinte minutos a la vez sumergidos adentro y centrados singular en crear mi propio trabajo es un lujo que dejé de disfrutar cuando mi hija, Alina, nacio hace tres años. ¿Soy me atrevo me lo admito? – egoísta anticipando el tiempo sin restricciones de este artista, vergonzosamente pero secretamente feliz en la perspectiva de una semana sin demandas del cliente, sumisiones de la oferta, limpieza de casa, y, sobre todo, embarazosamente, cuidando a otros. Escribiré, comeré, hablaré, dormiré, y conduciré… sin la interrupción. Esto es, después de todo, una semana para mí.

Con todo la madre en mí se entristecía inmediatamente cuando leí mi e-mail de la aceptación; mi celebración fue templada por los rasgones en una confluencia verdaderamente exasperante de emociones mezcladas. Honesto, nunca pensé que entraría. Pero una vez que hice, mi mente entró en erupción. ¿Cómo, yo me preguntaba, podría sobrevivir una semana sin mi bebé? Sin sus manos de las estrellas de mar, los trajes de la princesa, las pronuncias de dulce maneras (“Gracias, mami. Te amo”, ella dice cuando le doy una taza)? ¿Sin su subir del mono del temerario, las baile locas, y besos pegajosos de ketchup? ¿Cómo?

Nuestras circunstancias financieras son tales que tengo que assistir a esta conferencia solamente. Ningunos cuidantes que viajan o miembro de familia bienintencionado aquí. Y, se diga la verdad, mi pareja y estoy escatimando apenas para producir mi porción de este viaje. Aunque esta separación será entre los períodos lo más emocionalmente posible difíciles yo tenga todavía aguantar, el escritor y la madre en mí convienen que esta conferencia es una gran oportunidad que puede servir solamente beneficiar a mis situaciones del profesional y por lo tanto personales y de la familia. Por lo menos, con ése estamos de acuerdo.

Y con riesgo de sonar chiona, realizo que las cuentas de otros padres están separadas de sus niños, a menudo durante mucho más tiempo los períodos. Los padres militares son los ejemplos más nobles de esto; deben, yo se convencen, poseen una cierta clase de fortaleza de ánimo asombrosa. Sé que mi hija estará en el más capaz de manos durante mi ausencia, de las de su otra madre y de sus abuelos. Sé que ella sea fina y eso que ella no (ojala) sostiene marcar con una cicatriz emocional de largo plazo. (Por supuesto, la mortificada irracional en mí miedos una manifestación de las ediciones del abandono e inmediatamente representada Alina como adulto que miente en el sofá de un cierto encogimiento, pasando millares en terapia, el momento que sabía que me iba!) Sé que mi pareja querida, que también extranaré, facilitaré los miedos de nuestras hijas y navegaré maravillosamente con la semana incluso durante ella hace juegos malabares a casa, familia, y trabaja solamente. Sé que no tengo nada temer.

Excepto mí falto ya a mi bebé.

¿Cómo los padres hacen esto?

Por Elisa Garcia

Do you have lots of contraptions/toys to appease your little one? I do. Not tons, but the ‘normal’ amount. I wrote a blog a few months back about ‘Every Mom Has a Carnival’. Exersaucers, bouncy swings, toys that make noise, toys that stimulate development, books to flip through, trucks to roll on the ground, I mean the list goes on and on. So why is it, when I have all these things at my 9 month-old’s disposal, he only wants what he can’t have!

For instance, yesterday I was working. He got up from his nap and wanted to play. So, I brought my laptop into his room, set it up, brought in my 3-ring-binder with work info, my water, my decaf coffee and a pen. I had all of his stuffed animals around him so he could just have at them. I had a few other toys strewn about. I figured this will keep him busy for the 20 minutes I need to finish my work and have the rest of the day to play with him. Well, the moment I sat down, he was all over me. Tugging at my binder, trying to climb up to the laptop, grabbing for my pen. He managed in one quick and swift moment to knock over my full glass of ice water. I mean, it was constant. I would pick him up, move him to another area of his room, show him his exciting toys and go back to my spot. Within seconds, mere seconds, he was on me again. At one point, I actually started laughing, looked up and said out loud, ‘I am, at this moment, the essence of a working mom.’ I felt the power and frustration and joy of hundreds of thousands of moms who work from home. It was joyous and crazy all at the same time.

My little guy is so sweet, so curious, so smart (don’t sound like a proud mom, do I?). He finds joy in just about everything. We really are blessed. And at moments like yesterday, I just look at him and know that all is well. That even when I’m on my hands and knees, picking up pieces of ice and moping up water that he just knocked over, with the work that I still need to finish on my screen, I am overwhelmingly proud, honored and eternally grateful to have him.