This not working thing could really be something. Your friends take you out to lunch, the stay-at-home moms actually start talking to you and you can go ice skating in the middle of the day in Prospect Park.
In a city of 10 million souls there is no one on the icy paths as you cross over to the far end of the park. You come over a hill and suddenly a blast of "dancing queen, young and sweet" insinuates itself through the recently restored Japanese pagoda.
The one new skill I have picked up as an adult is ice skating. It provides healthy activity for 5 and 7 year olds (and induces early bedtimes) and wonder of all, I am at the point of being able to cross my feet on the turns, do a hip swivel to the music and skate backwards. A friend who nearly won her state championship in figure skating has promised to annoint me in purple eye shadow and show me how to do that triple salchow thing -- or at the very least pull my arms in and spin till you get dizzy...oh and I do love the Hasidic girls who look like they are out of the '40s with their pleated skirts below the knee, wool tights and wide headbands.
Aside from running around the city meeting with incubator types -- wow, people are still starting stuff -- I am making serious inroads with the power PTA moms and the women that actually get their kids fed and homework done before 6 pm. It's an interesting, alcohol-fueled group: the hot pan-latina moms like their 30 year old mezcal -- I actually drank the worm at a kid party last weekend, while I celebrated Australia Day with a fine shiraz from the australian wine importer family down the block. Made it to the PTA auction meeting after and tried to sober up as we attempted to develop "experiential items" for the auction. I scored a good one as I remembered that a worried Wall Street mom was married to a jazz musician and as it turns out he is in the pit for the revival of West Side Story and can do tickets and a backstage tour.
Today's count:
- loads of laundry: 4
- beds changed: 2
- Lego "best spaceship I've ever made" stepped on resulting in 7 year old howl: 1
- dinner: marginal attempt at sole muenierre
- height of unfiled bills/paperwork/kid art: 5 inches and counting
- pieces of "Pirate Booty" found stuck to couch: 4
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Week 3: Ice Skating, Abba and "5 o'clock somewhere"
Monday, January 12, 2009
Week One -- Another Statistic, A New At-Home Mom
Just filed the online unemployment claim form -- irony is that the Internet is what has made so many media jobs defunct, but so easy to deal with government offices.
After 20 years in media -- the last seven complemented with 2 kids and the wonderful but self-destroying commitment that entails -- I am a part of a mass statistic so well-detailed in the New York Gloom & Doom Times.
Until mid last week my day usually began before 7 rustling kids out of bed, making breakfast -- shameful the quantity of pre-fab oatmeal they consume -- wrestling them into clothes, velcroing the shoes. (Yes, my 7 year old does not know how to tie -- a new project for unemployment!) After the walk to school down the street, probably the most pleasant part of the day with my daughter determining how many hugs and kisses she would give me before she waved goodbye from behind the fence, I would dash into the grocer for a paper, run down the steps to the F train and do my usual profiling to get a seat. As a thin-hipped woman, I am all too willing to wedge my ass between two overabundant asses -- all in the attempt to get enough elbow room to spread open the Gloom and Doom Times and find out the latest sky is falling stats. After a quick shift to the A train, I would emerge at work in Chelsea, claim my cube, get my coffee and begin the round of email checking, voice mail answering and in general do what it takes to support a family and find as much personal satisfaction you can along the way.
People tell me I am was never cut out for being a stay at home mom. As I tell fellow parents of my status they give me this awkward/pained look. I'm sure I do look different to them now -- no eye makeup, braless, thin creeping grey stripe at my part that I haven't bothered to do anything about. Wait, I've become one of them.
This is exactly what I have wanted for some time. I was laid off from a dot com when pregnant with my first kid. My husband got laid off 1 month after he was born and I took the first job that came my way. I never got off the wagon train despite adding a second child. Still remember coming back from maternity leave (at least I got one second time around) to give a speech to 600 Internet media executives about some primary consumer research I had completed. Resplendent with a spackling of pricey under eye cream I was determined to outperform any of the usual research types and the media executives in the room. I became the Suze Orman of Internet research, elaborating on how the Internet was changing consumer lives and offered a benefit to working women almost equal to that of the advent of the washing machine at the turn of the last century. I correctly predicted that online grocery shopping was not dead and would take off in key urban markets.
Well, my Internet grocery shopping days are over, I am schlepping bags of cheaper fair up to my 3rd floor apartment -- but on the upside, I am determined to proved tonight to my kids that Ratatouille is something more than a Pixar movie. Eggplant calls...
Oh, the inspiration for this? As a kid, I inherited a book by Phyllis Diller -- a woman who along with Joan Rivers pioneered stand up comedy. The book was Housekeeping Hints, a compendium of wacky tips like "cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing. http://www.amazon.com/Phyllis-Dillers-housekeeping-hints-Diller/dp/B00005WMD2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1231776615&sr=1-1
Wish I could say that the early feminist tome: Diary of a Mad Housewife, was an influence, but never read it. My life has more closely resembled Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, complete with bad commute and flack job. Will add the former to my reading list in my newly "free" life.
Today's count:
After 20 years in media -- the last seven complemented with 2 kids and the wonderful but self-destroying commitment that entails -- I am a part of a mass statistic so well-detailed in the New York Gloom & Doom Times.
Until mid last week my day usually began before 7 rustling kids out of bed, making breakfast -- shameful the quantity of pre-fab oatmeal they consume -- wrestling them into clothes, velcroing the shoes. (Yes, my 7 year old does not know how to tie -- a new project for unemployment!) After the walk to school down the street, probably the most pleasant part of the day with my daughter determining how many hugs and kisses she would give me before she waved goodbye from behind the fence, I would dash into the grocer for a paper, run down the steps to the F train and do my usual profiling to get a seat. As a thin-hipped woman, I am all too willing to wedge my ass between two overabundant asses -- all in the attempt to get enough elbow room to spread open the Gloom and Doom Times and find out the latest sky is falling stats. After a quick shift to the A train, I would emerge at work in Chelsea, claim my cube, get my coffee and begin the round of email checking, voice mail answering and in general do what it takes to support a family and find as much personal satisfaction you can along the way.
People tell me I am was never cut out for being a stay at home mom. As I tell fellow parents of my status they give me this awkward/pained look. I'm sure I do look different to them now -- no eye makeup, braless, thin creeping grey stripe at my part that I haven't bothered to do anything about. Wait, I've become one of them.
This is exactly what I have wanted for some time. I was laid off from a dot com when pregnant with my first kid. My husband got laid off 1 month after he was born and I took the first job that came my way. I never got off the wagon train despite adding a second child. Still remember coming back from maternity leave (at least I got one second time around) to give a speech to 600 Internet media executives about some primary consumer research I had completed. Resplendent with a spackling of pricey under eye cream I was determined to outperform any of the usual research types and the media executives in the room. I became the Suze Orman of Internet research, elaborating on how the Internet was changing consumer lives and offered a benefit to working women almost equal to that of the advent of the washing machine at the turn of the last century. I correctly predicted that online grocery shopping was not dead and would take off in key urban markets.
Well, my Internet grocery shopping days are over, I am schlepping bags of cheaper fair up to my 3rd floor apartment -- but on the upside, I am determined to proved tonight to my kids that Ratatouille is something more than a Pixar movie. Eggplant calls...
Oh, the inspiration for this? As a kid, I inherited a book by Phyllis Diller -- a woman who along with Joan Rivers pioneered stand up comedy. The book was Housekeeping Hints, a compendium of wacky tips like "cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing. http://www.amazon.com/Phyllis-Dillers-housekeeping-hints-Diller/dp/B00005WMD2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1231776615&sr=1-1
Wish I could say that the early feminist tome: Diary of a Mad Housewife, was an influence, but never read it. My life has more closely resembled Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, complete with bad commute and flack job. Will add the former to my reading list in my newly "free" life.
Today's count:
- Loads of laundry washed & folded: 2
- Snacks made: 2
- Legos stepped on: 5
- Pain factor 2+
- PTA activities to complete: stick fliers for fundraiser at the 50+ yoga studios in Park Slope; the fundraiser features green authors and all those self-respecting Pilates moms may want to turn up. I know I am supposed to be doing yoga or something in my time off but the alternate nostril breathing is just too icky.
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