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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