I'm baaaaa-aaaack

Tonight, I witnessed one of the most amazing things ever: my boys, playing together, completely unaware of my presence.

That's right, my boyS. I've been promoted. Since I last wrote, a lot has happened. Namely 9 months of a difficult pregnancy followed by a comparatively easy 36 hour labor and birth, followed by 2 months of bliss and 5 months of pure H-E-Double Hockey Sticks.

And here we are: Today the Tatiman is 2 years and 5 months old, and his little brother, Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo (not his real full name, although his real full name is almost as long) will be 8 months old next week.

I haven't written because I spent 4 months heaving. Not dry heaving, because I was always sure to eat my daily dose of Mrs. T's Perogies (they come up as easy as they go down—lessons learned during my first pregnancy), but heaving nonetheless.

I haven' t written because I spent the rest of my pregnancy running to high risk docs twice a week to be monitored for a whole bunch of things that turned out to be nothing.

I haven't written because I had a beautiful and peaceful newborn.

I haven't written because that beautiful and peaceful newborn caught a virus at 7 weeks old that required a hospital stay that left him with the horrible 24/7 reflux cycle that goes something like this: SCREAM-eat-barf-SCREAM, rinse and repeat for 5 months.

But really, I haven't written because I felt like I was out of things to say. I was in love with my life. It was easy. It was exciting—in the 'shall we go to the playground, boardwalk, or woods to play today' kind of way. It was perfection. And, who wants to hear somebody ramble about perfection all the time?

But tonight, I saw my boys playing together, and I felt like I had something to say again. So, allow me to ramble. We'll get caught up, and then hopefully I'll keep up. Or not. Such is the life...

We didn't 'plan' on my promotion to Professional Stay at Home Mom of Two (Under Two). My pregnancy with the Tatiman was horrible. I never knew one could vomit so much in a 24 hour period, for so many months on end. The 44 hour labor was the icing on that cake. I was not eager to repeat that experience ever. We considered adoption after I swore I would never, ever, ever serve as a gestational vessel again. But, when it came down to it, we both felt that the Tatiman met our every parenting need. We felt complete. Our little family of three. Bliss.

But we both have siblings. And we both feel special connections to our siblings. And we both started to think about the Tatiman's best interests, and how one day he would have to deal with us as old people, and it would be nice for him to be able to share that load.

And though I had decided I would NEVER choose to get pregnant again, we also decided to leave it up to fate. Apparently fate thought we should get pregnant that week....38 weeks and 36 hour of labor later (an improvement!) we welcomed Finny Bo Binny Binny Boo Boo.

Thus, I accepted my promotion, and began a wholly new adventure.

When is "Good Enough" well...Good Enough?!?!

I can vividly remember my mother telling me, "Good enough, isn't." She said it when I tried to half-arse a school project, take less-than-enough time to pick out a special gift, or make my bed--barely. Although I can't remember which of her relatives instilled that value in her, I can hear her saying it in my head (when she isn't saying it in person) as I go through my day-to-day tasks.

As I swiftered my kitchen floor today, I caught myself looking at the not-really-sparkling-clean floor, and muttering outloud "It's good enough." But...is it? Yeah, I think so.

Why? Because it's not that important. I clean my floor at least once a week, sometimes 3 or 4 times...and within minutes, it has a mashed blueberry, or a smattering of milkbone crumbs, or (lately) some soup drippings.

I just don't have time to focus on that right now. Yes, I'm a SAHM. Yes, my full time job is to keep my house in order and my son taken care of. Sure, I can always make the time to get down on my hands and knees to scrub the floor...or I can spend that time taking my son to the park, or reading him a story or perfecting our dance moves.

...and anyway, although my floor may not look clean enough to eat off of, if you time it just right, it's like an all-you-can-eat buffet!

Simple Pleasures

I don't write as much as I originally thought I would, because I don't always feel like I have anything interesting to say. But maybe that's the point. Most of my days are filled with simple things that make me, the Tatiman, DH, and the Du (our golden retriever) very happy.

I thought about this yesterday, while the Tatiman and I enjoyed a simple peasant lunch--grilled cheese and soup. Seriously, what could be better than a crisp* fall day with homemade pumpkin bisque and granny smith apples, brie, honey, and fresh homemade** croissants, all gooey and warm from a stint in the panini press.

After lunch, we went down to walk along the boardwalk. We watched countless planes flying overhead, stuck our tootsies in the water, and tried to stand in some other family's photographs (ok, only one of us did that--you decide which).

A perfectly simple day...simply perfect.



*By "crisp" I mean it was like 80 and muggy...WHERE is fall?
**By "homemade" I mean I pulled the croissants, that were made at the Giant and brought for a playdate a month ago, out of the freezer--but I did freshly defrost them.

Mommies say the Darndest Things.

…sooooo I’ve been slacking a bit on the blog. I’d like to put an optimistic spin on it: I haven’t really been slacking on the blog so much as I’ve been too busy living life. In the past few months we have: flown to Florida, and home. Flown to California, and home. Visited Pennsylvania. Gone to the lake for a week. Spent not-a-single-weekend in over two months at our house. Attended countless playgroups. Started and finished swim lessons. Oh…and started a baking business.

But now I’m back, here to blog for your enjoyment. For those keeping up, the Tatiman is now 13 months old. He has managed to earn himself 3 black eyes and 1 fat lip since he started walking. Now he is running. I’m terrified.

Before I had a kid, I said all kinds of things I never imagined I would say. Many of those things were said after a frosty beverage, or three, but I digress. Now that I am a mommy (or, Daddy, as the Tatiman insists on calling me), I find myself saying all kinds of things I NEVER imagined I would say.

I think I’m going to compile a list, and write a book.

So far on my list:

1. Please don’t lick your shoes.
2. Please don’t put your chopsticks in your poop.

I know its early to contact Houghton Mifflin, but it’s a start.

What have YOU said that made you snicker as it came out?

Book Review: Comeback Moms

“How to Leave Work, Raise Children, and Restart Your Career Even If You Haven’t Had a Job in Years” by Monica Samuels & J. C. Conklin.

This book should be required reading for anybody contemplating becoming a SAHM. The blurb on the front cover says it all:

Millions of educated, professional women are quitting their jobs to stay home and raise their children…You worked hard for your degree and even harder to get to this point in your career…Once you have a baby, your life changes in ways you’d never imagine. Some of your friends and family members may think you’ve gone a little crazy…


Yes. Yes. And Yes.

Comeback Moms is all about strategy—setting the groundwork for one day (even if that day is 10 years away) re-entering the workforce. It is the only book I’ve come across that seems to suggest that women really can do it all—just not all at one time—and that is a marvelous thing.

A few of my favorite tips:

1. Handle money issues up front. As a former divorce lawyer, I know finances lead to the breakup of many-a-marriage. You are an adult, you should not receive an “allowance.” Set a family budget that meets both of your needs. Discuss splurges before you purchase them—this goes for both of you. Nobody wants to stare at a large screen TV that they resent…or feel guilty wearing a hot pair of pumps.

2. Count your blessings. Really. Millions of women would love to be in your shoes. Yes, raising your children is the hardest job in the world. But just because your husband is going to an office every day does not mean he is not also raising your children. It is hard for both of you—for different reasons—acknowledge that. And then think about how lucky you are to be able to spend these precious times at home.

3. Keep your career title. This one really hit home. I remember the first time I had to fill out a form at the pediatricians after I stopped working…I had no idea what to put in the “occupation” section. People do think differently of you when you are ‘just a mom’. So, don’t be ‘just a mom’—be an ‘attorney/stay-at-home-mom’. Or a ‘consultant’ or a ‘writer’—you still are whatever you were before, just on hiatus. Plus, you never know where that next job opportunity might come from.

4. Remind yourself that you are a smart person. Ahhh, the dreaded cocktail party. Another ‘just a mom’ situation. You are still an adult, and you are entitled to enjoy adult conversation.

5. Keep a foot in the door. If you intend to go back to work—ever—make sure you keep up with contacts. Schedule a lunch date once a month. Volunteer in a place that people in your field are likely to be working. Not only will you enjoy staying in the loop, it will keep fresh in the minds of potential future employers.

6. Use the time at home to prepare for your future career. Seems kind of crazy—but think of your time at home as an opportunity to decide what you really want to be when you grow up. If you loved what you did—the decision is probably easy—go back to it. If you didn’t—you can volunteer in any number of potential future career situations—and decide what your passion may be. It is a luxury, don’t miss out on the chance.

In addition to tips for the already-at-home-mom, Comeback Moms offers advice for preparing to leave your career to stay at home. I only wish I had known about this book before I embarked on this adventure…