Monthly Archives: September 2015

Firsts and Lasts

It was the first day of school. Maybe you noticed. Personally, I did not need facebook to show off all the pictures of my friends’ kids to remind me that it was coming. I was counting the days. After all, two months is a looooong time to spend with companions whose ability to reason is sporadic, and whose moods are dependent upon their hunger levels, last night’s bedtime, and when they last pooped.

So when that school bell rang, I was ready. And it wasn’t just one lad in a tie and a button shirt this year. It was TWO.

That’s right, it’s PreK. All day PreK! Every day PreK! Universal, free for everybody PreK! Socialist PreK! Bloody Red Communist Agenda PreK, even! And my kid is going to it! I could kiss the mayor!

Because not only was I ready to place these children in the hands of trained professionals, they were ready to go, too. At least the little guy was. When he heard that his first two days would be half-days, the expression on his face could not have said “bullcookies” more clearly. He was inconsolable. That kid wants to eat school lunch in the worst way. So, off they went.

Whatever. Bye Mommy.

Whatever. Bye Mommy.

And just like that, I worked myself out of a job.

Huh. That was quick. And took freaking forever.

I have definitely overshared on my occasional ambivalence toward being a stay at home mom. But I have also loved this time. I guess now that it’s pretty much done, I can weigh in for all those other parents who fought the Mommy Wars–and not the ones over who is going to put on their shoes Right. Now. Or I am leaving without them. I mean the agony of deciding whether to stay home with their kids or go back to work.

If you chose to stay at home with your kids, you made the right choice.

If you chose to go back to work, you made the right choice, too.

And now I am going to kick back and eat some bon bons and cover myself in glitter, because that’s what I was totally promised four years ago when I signed up for this gig.

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Filed under Not cool

Dark days

I had one of those days. The “they might come to take my kids away, and I wouldn’t be sorry. In fact, I would be willing to drop them off” days.  The “I turned forty but the kids ate what career I had and I still don’t seem to be getting paid, but I’m working all the damn time” days. 

I gave myself a time out. In the hallway. There may have been wine involved.

Later, when the man of my dreams showed up to rescue me, he did it with flowers and whiskey. Swoon.

Is this a cry for help? I don’t think so, but I could do without those kind of days. 

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