Self-Made Mom

I’ve had some close encounters of the working kind in the past week. Remarkably, since I left my job, I’ve had little to do with my former coworkers. It’s not out of spite or anything. (Although I’m sure they wouldn’t appreciate me calling them at 1 pm while they’re at their computers and I’ve just finished watching an episode of Top Chef).  It’s just that I’m being lazy about the whole “networking to get back in the workforce someday thing” and I have no urge to really know what I left behind me.  I wish I could say that I miss work, but I don’t, actually. So while I like to hear from my old friends, I don’t have that morbid curiosity about me wondering, “are they getting by without me?” Because I’m sure they are.

However, in the last week, I’ve gotten some pokes from my former colleagues and work associates.  My old team took me out to a very nice “going away” afternoon tea where I gorged myself on scrumptuous handmade scones and shrimp sandwiches until my stomach hurt. (Cut me some slack. Most of my lunches these days consist of french fries and an occasional crust of grilled cheese.)  My colleague even asked me before our get together if I was excited to bust out some of my old corporate wardrobe again. Like I all I wear are Uggs and leggings all day every day. Please.  It was actually somewhat entertaining to put on a shirt that buttons, pants that aren’t made of denim and have somewhere to be with adults at 3 pm, but by 5 o’clock, I was relieved to go home, take off my thong underwear (I have little problem with panty lines while I’m at home) and slip on my momiform.

I mean, after we discussed gossiped about all our old clients, what was I supposed to talk about? My “blog” which is so “cute?” My son, who’s growing up faster than I care to believe? My coworkers are childless and I’m not sure they were that interested in the latest potty training techniques. Plus, it’s not like I’ve been very good at keeping up with marketplace trends; I’ve let my “work” magazine subscriptions all but completely lapse in the three months since I stepped out the door.

This lack of interest in the working world wasn’t just obvious over Darjeeling and jam. I’ve had other work-related avoidances as well.  For example, I turned down a good freelancing opportunity last week. I blew off a former colleague who wanted me to speak to his class. I’m even bailing on a “how to be a better freelancer” seminar this week that I’m supposed to go to with my new friend and learn how to market myself better.  Freelancing lesson #1: don’t bail on popular blog friend for night at home. (Truth be told I am staying at home to prepare for a vacation later this week, but my former gunner self wouldn’t let a silly thing like vacation get in the way of some good networking.)

I’m sure somewhere out there Leslie Bennetts is signing Hail Marys praying for my working mom salvation. I’m a serious ”keeping myself in the mix” flunkie. I’m a career-path dropout.  Hell, I’m not keeping that “key contacts” roster alive. You know, the one I’m supposed to keep so that if in six months I’m going ballistic with a temper-tantrum-throwing-toddler and I want to go back to work it will be seamless.  On paper, I’m setting myself up for complete failure. But I’m keeping hope alive that the way everyone else judges what moms do when they stop working will somehow change if and when I decide to ever be a “working” mom again.

That just being me doing what I want to do when I want to do it will be enough. I’m not giving into the career Grim Reaper yet.

Where has this week gone? Oh yeah, the weekend of the birthday party is upon me. Tactics to prepare for the onslaught of 22 two-year-olds and eight out-of-town family members include:

• The obligatory pre-birthday haircut. Kiddie salon inadequate for birthday hair styling.

Only a $25 haircut by mommy’s stylist will do for the birthday boy.

• The delivery of several mysterious pre-birthday packages from spoiling grandparents.

• The creation of hokey goodie bags. Parents of children attending the soiree: do not throw out valuable contents of bag for at least 48 hours to ensure you’ve experienced the beauty of Oriental Trading Company.

Even Do Do Dora thinks the goodie bags are low budget.

• The necessary running around for beverages, Goldfish, and random party accoutrement.

Because every child cannot live without a Hefty Zoo cup with lid. Score!

• The opening of VERY LOUD AND ANNOYING new toys in presence of spoiling grandparents.

Yes, it lights up and moves.

• The questioning of my sanity in creating this madness for a two-year-old.

Can somebody remind me about this post next year?

• Don’t look at me that way. In 5-10 years, you too, may find yourself dragging a screaming toddler up the escalator on the way to find velvet throw pillows to cover the puke stains on your couch.
• Trust me, a toddler throwing grapes on the floor is much better than smushing them in his hands.
• You most likely won’t ever hold your significant other’s hand while shopping for silverware again.
• I guarantee you’ll never unpack that Krups ice cream maker. It’s ok.  Four years later and I haven’t opened mine yet.

Still dusty after all these years.

• The love you have for each other will never equal the love you have for a brand-new set of non-stick Calphalon pans.

And while I was picking on unsuspecting couples at Crate and Barrel, here’s what was happening on the web:

• The Secret Lives of Soccer Moms goes postal: I realized that after I talked to Tracey and watched the premiere episode, I forgot to Tivo the series.  Which means I missed out on following all the crazy backlash the show is getting on the web.  Holy crap, people. Get a life. It’s a TV show. Geez.
•  Mickey’s going to be eating matzah one day: The Disney “blunder” is no more. Go Devra! Hope they like your charoset.
• Just what I want to read before going to bed at night: I don’t see the point of reading a fictional book about the life I’m leading. Sounds to me like another helping of the Mommy Wars hype with a different title.
• I started a new pet project. Click here to see the beginning of genius.
• ** Edited to add: Have you all seen this new site Alltop? I’ve read about it like 4 times today, so I had to write about it. It collects all the top blogs on the web according to different categories. It’s a great way to see all of your favorite sites’ top 5 posts in a few scrolls of the mouse. There is even a category for mom blogs, but you won’t see me there (yet?) so don’t forget to come back and visit here after you scroll away!

Tags: The Secret Life of Soccer Moms, The Ten-Year Nap, Meg Wolitzer, mommy wars, Disney, Alltop

If you’ve ever felt like being on Facebook is like being in junior high again, read this recent article by Mary Schmich of the Chicago Tribune. I hadn’t over-analyzed my own Facebook middle school experiences until I got to this part of her article, which said:

As a Facebook neophyte, instinct told me, you don’t want to add too many friends too fast; that would make you look promiscuous and insecure. On Facebook, as in life, you never, ever want to look needy.

Hmmm, that didn’t bode well for me. The night before I extended friend invites to at least 10 randoms who I hadn’t heard from or talked to in at least 10 years. I really want to get to that elusive “200″ friends number. I’m almost there, so who cares if I don’t know why I accepted someone’s friendship and have no idea who she is.  I have more friends that way.

According to Schmich, this is the ultimate Facebook-loser move:

I quickly deduced that there’s a fine line on Facebook between being the person who has 1,021 friends because she’s genuinely popular and the one who has 1,021 friends because she’s terrified you’ll think she’s not.

I always thought there was something creepy about the woman who found me randomly and kept e-mailing me to be her friend.  She didn’t even have a real photo in her profile.  Who needs an avatar when you can use your Facebook profile photo to show off how damn cute your kids are? Don’t lie, you do that too.

I’m full of Facebook follies. Seriously, people. The main reason I even signed up for the site is to show off how great my life is now to my old high school nemesis. Yeah, I was that big of a loser then and yeah, I’m that insecure. Un-friend me, okay?  No, but really, the only and I mean only reason I even click on one of my “friend’s” profiles is to see how they look now. Surprisingly, everyone I know actually looks damn good.  It is kinda hard to tell in a 100 x 50 pixel photo, but I’ll give ‘em a pass.

Some “friends” of mine actually use Facebook to communicate and catch up.  People: isn’t this what e-mail is for? After unsuccessfully trying to make a playdate with an actual real-life friend who I hadn’t seen in 6 months I started to wonder, “did she blow me off?” No, no.  She just decided to use Facebook to set up our plans.  Oh, how intuitive.  Yes, I know you get those e-mail updates from the site, but it’s really too much effort to log onto the site and read them in a timely manner.  Getting the gist? I am not sure I’ll ever use Facebook to make (or keep) friends.

For one, I just don’t get all those applications. It was enough that the site knew that I ordered those sneakers from Zappos. (Yes, I know they apologized for that, but it wasn’t enough to keep my husband from making me return them.) Groups? Yeah, they’re fun to be a part of, but other than putting it as a badge, what will I do with being a fan of the best Coney Island restaurant in Detroit other than sulk that I can’t go eat their chili fries on a daily basis?

I may be young in age, but I’m old at heart on the internet.  I know I write a blog, but I rarely post photos of myself and none of my family. (At least where you can see their faces).  I like engaging, but I also like to keep my distance.  Perhaps I’m missing the point of all this social networking and re-connecting, but I’m just not cut out for Twittering, microblogging, Flickring, whatevering.  In my online life, I like being in the know and having others know me, but I haven’t yet gotten to that point of bridging the two seamlessly. 

And until I can get over making playdates via something called “A Wall,” I probably never will. I guess I won’t be getting to that 200 number that quickly after all. 

What are you guys using Facebook for?

I try to live my life seeing the good in people.  We are not perfect. We make mistakes and say things we don’t mean and don’t think before we act. I have definitely done this before in my life many times.

That’s what I want to believe with this whole Disney-event-over-Passover thing.  That it was some dumb intern who picked a date for the event, who wasn’t Jewish and who didn’t realize that the event was held over Passover. That when the blast e-mails went out to mom bloggers to attend, they just weren’t thinking about Jews/ non-Jews, etc.  Of course, they would have never scheduled the event this weekend, because it’s Easter, but I have to remind myself every now and then, while 90% of my friends are Jewish, we make up a small portion of this society. We are on the national calendar of events, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that we’re top of mind. 

I’m not going to turn this into a religious tirade here, and I’m not excusing anyone’s behavior.  I actually hate getting involved in controversy. But, I wanted to speak out about this.  I think it’s unfortunate that the folks at Blue Suit Mom and Disney didn’t realize that the event was scheduled on a major Jewish holiday. But I think it’s just an instance of someone being dumb. Not a mess-up of blogger relations.  I’ve read all the comments and opined myself.  I’ve e-mailed with friends about it. 

 I read Maria Bailey’s comment (of Blue Suit Mom) on Devra’s blog and wonder if she doesn’t have a point:

I think there is a more productive way to meet in the middle than to publicly criticize their efforts. 

That was my approach before this whole brouhaha started. I told Maria over e-mail that the event was over Passover.  She apologized for the oversight and I accepted it for what it was - a dumb mistake. And I moved on.  Maybe I don’t get this whole blog thing, but I didn’t feel like chastizing her on a public forum.  Rather, I wanted to believe she and her team had good intentions and made a silly oversight. 

I don’t know if I’m right on this one.  But I hope I am. I want to see the good in people. And if I’m proven wrong, well, you all will hear about it here first. We all can learn from our mistakes.

There must be something in the air, because in the last month I was invited to three events, and pitched for a gazillion others.

I think the internet is coming down with a case of mom marketing mania.

I’m not complaining here. It’s actually quite funny for me. Someone out there thinks I’m influential enough to send me to Disney for the weekend (FREE!?) with Steph and Amy? I’m not even in the same sphere as these ladies. Unfortunately, I had to pass it up because the event falls over everybody’s favorite Jewish holiday, Passover. (An aside: I did mention this to the conference organizer, and she seemed taken aback and apologized for the unfortunate oversight. It’s a bummer, but as I told Devra, I am not sure the general population considers the sacred act of hiding the afikoman when planning fun events that include riding Space Mountain. A cop out? Perhaps, but I try never to take the “forgetting the Jewish holidays thing” too personally.) I wish I could pass over eating matzah in favor of some cotton candy and chocolate Mickey Mouse ears, but alas, I’ll have to wait on that.

I was also invited (coincidentally a former client of mine when I was working) to Johnson’s Camp Baby in lovely New Jersey. The whole conference sounds pretty swank, and again, unfortunately I can’t attend. Something about my son’s birthday and a long-awaited vacation with my husband interfering. Damn families. Too bad, because I wanted to catch up some with Kim.  How many e-mails have been wasted on me? I’m a mom marketing flunkie.

I was, however, lucky enough to get to go to a fab luncheon last week, courtesy of the lovely Charlene.  The luncheon was in honor of Yahoo!’s new website for women, Shine. We got to have lunch at a swank hotel and get a sneak peek into the brilliant minds of some very creative women. Plus, I got to gab with M.J., Leah, Jessica, Danielle, Amy and Erin. I’m eagerly awaiting the site’s launch.  Oh, and another round of that salmon with fingerling potatoes wouldn’t be bad, either.

I’m a little late to this one (see? I’m not that influential, people!), but have you all checked out the site, Mom Logic, yet? The site’s layout is compelling and they write on everything from Halle’s new baby, to fashion and beauty.  If only I had more time to sit and read it.

I can’t even get into all the pitches I’ve received lately as well. I’m seriously not writing all this to say “look at me, I get pitched,” but rather to question some of the PR and marketing folks supposed interest in my blog. Does someone really think that I’m going to write about a “Caribbean Escape contest courtesy of Bahama Breeze?” Because I’ve written so much on my blog about my love for the islands, mon? I sometimes feel like with all the e-mails I get we are degrading the value of how word-of-mouth on blogs can really work.

But I know why everyone in the marketing industry is desperately hunting mom bloggers. This article (thanks, Emily), states that “more than 40 percent of all women who go online have children under 18 at home and that internet usage rate of females who are expecting to have first or second child in the next year is at 94 percent.” (Translated: 94 percent of you suckers actually think the internet has the information you need to raise a child. Muwaahahah. Just kidding.)

While these studies and statistics spout off incredibly high numbers of moms online, marketers need to remember to pay attention to online behavior of moms, not just their usage rate. Just because I tried out and liked a Land’s End diaper bag, doesn’t necessarily mean I want to hawk meal plans or life coaching on my site. 

But a weekend away with the girls? Maybe if I wasn’t a mom with a family to tend to, I could swing it.  Then again, it probably means I wouldn’t have received the invite in the first place.
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Update to this post: Clearly I’m so NOT influential because I haven’t been keeping up on some serious backlash surrounding these events. Devra recaps it all here… Oy Vey is right, D.  Sorry, Julie and Stefania.  Wow, this disappoints me big time.  Here’s a link to the response from J&J on the issue.

No, I didn’t go back to work or anything crazy like that, but I did take on an assignment that has deadlines and everything! I’m going to be writing for Work It! Mom’s newest blog, Moms on Issues.  I’ll be tag teaming with esteemed blogger Veronica, writing about all the social and political issues moms face with on a daily basis and how moms are covered in the media.

So take a whirl at our first two posts and let us know what you think!

And kudos to Susan, my first blog friend, who’s teaming up with us over at Mommy Track’d. Can’t wait to see what she comes up with…

One of the strangest things for me about being a SAHM is who else is around and about during daylight hours. When I was working, of course, most of the other people I would see coming and going were in the same boat as me - commuting to downtown, grabbing a bite on a lunch break, rushing to get home at 5 pm.

But now that I’m home during the day, I’m meeting new people who I never would have been privvy too on my old work schedule.  The UPS dude. The mailwoman.

The hockey player.

See, my across-the-alley-neighbor happens to be a famous hockey player.  A famous, very good looking hockey player who I have a raging mild crush on.  (I know, he’s total jail bait.) 

I had heard the rumor about a year ago from a woman building a home across the way from me.

Yeah, we sold that lot to someone who plays on the Chicago Blackhawks.

I totally tried to play it cool, but inside I was burning. I love men who play the sport of hockey.  I imagined our friendship blossoming.  He’d teach my son to skate and we’d drink Bud Lights on our porch as the sun set.  He’d go off to play a game, and I’d go home and make dinner.  Our relationship would grow out of our passing each others’ garages on a daily basis.  He’d talk about me to his friends:

Did you see that hot MILF across the way? Her son is way cute too.

He’d continue to wave at me from his very manly, hunky SUV and we’d maintain our casual flirtation until he got traded and moved to Buffalo or something.

But then reality hits me.  As in yesterday when he pulls up to my garage as I’m backing in and we chat.  I offer up what I did this weekend:

Yeah, just got back from Grand Rapids visiting a friend and her new baby.

It hits me that my exciting weekend of visiting a friend and her daughter doesn’t quite stack up to pounding a six-pack and getting some ice time.  Of course, I’m totally oblivious to the cute brunette he’s got in the front seat.  I’m forgetting that I’m dressed in sweats (it doesn’t matter if they’re Lululemon) with ratty, greasy hair and bagel crumbs on me from head to toe lugging a 30-pounder on my hip.  

It’s time to close my garage door. Unless I have some lipstick on.

It seems to have reared its ugly head all over the internet and blogosphere again. I’m all for ending the Mommy Wars, but I’m also all for people articulating their feelings and points of view on the topic. To get a sense of how heated this debate still is, you should all check out the interesting discussions on these two blog posts:

• Work It Mom! is currently featuring an article by Leslie Bennetts, author of The Feminine Mistake (which I wrote about way back when), that has set off a firestorm of comments and a response by the site’s founder, Nataly. I personally think Ms. Bennetts probably has some nuggets of wisdom in her writing, but found her article a bit off-putting.  I think it’s absurd to quantify or generalize the term “happiness” and that we all have to define it for ourselves as mothers and women and people, not by whether or not we work or not.  I also applaud Nataly for putting different opinions on her site.  We’re all not always going to agree with one another and that’s what is great about the internet and its various communities. Just don’t let it get too personal, people.
• Speaking of personal attacks, Stephanie, a.k.a. Lawyer Mama, is taking some serious heat for a blog post she wrote last week about the scheduling of her son’s friend’s birthday party during a weekday time when she’s at work.  The ensuing debate and discussion underscore how mothers really judge each other. (You’ll notice I’m not participating in such debate, because I won’t opine either way! I am allowed to take a neutral stand on the internets, right?)
• And to round it all off, Chicago Crain’s Business published an article this week featuring a few moms’ stories about working vs. staying at home. It doesn’t cover any new territory, but any article that has a headline, “Great friends –until they had kids,” is always going to get me. The mommy wars are so much more fun with a sensational!! headline!!

Ok, I’m off to eat bon bons and watch Oprah re-runs, because, well, you know, that’s all us SAHMs do anyway…

Tags: mommy wars, Leslie Bennetts, Work It! Mom, DC Metro Moms

My husband goes to bed earlier than my friend’s almost-three-year-old.  He’s got a good excuse for it. He likes to start his day early so he can get home by dinner and spend what precious time he has in his busy schedule with my son and me.

Trouble is, the evenings are my awake time.  My time to read, write, chat, shop online, and relax. Without these precious evening hours, I would have no knowledge of who won Project Runway what happened in the news and no time to read my favorite blogs. Oh yeah, as you probably are aware, I have no time for that anyway.  

So when he climbs the stairs at 8:45 and I’m just digging into my e-mail, I feel that pang of guilt. I don’t want to go back to the days of our abusive blogging relationship, but I can’t bear to turn it in at 9 pm just when I’m Tivo’ing Lipstick Jungle for the first time.  I have so much to do so late at night.

Of course, there are benefits to going to bed at the same time most eight-year-olds do.  I sit in bed for an hour and read the juicy gossip in Vanity Fair, or finish a crossword puzzle.  Hell, sometimes I even fall right asleep. But most of the time, I sit at the edge of my bed checking to see if that little red light on the BlackBerry is flashing me with a new message.  It seems to taunt me, “why, oh why are you under the covers already when there is a new Google Alerts in bold on my screen?”

Inevitably, under that red light hypnosis, I emerge from my warm bed and plod down the hall to go on the computer. One hour and some very red and tired eyes later, I crawl back into bed where my husband’s been snoring for an hour. I’ve accomplished little and the quality time we’ve spent together amounts to a few grunts good night, a couple page turns of a boring book and a crash of the head to our new and fancy Tempurpedic pillows. (Side note: do NOT waste your time on down pillows people! Hmm… maybe that’s why he’s getting into bed so early.)

In my ideal world, our night would involve two hours of TV watching/ computer checking (of course I’d get to pick what’s on the tube) and then at the reasonable getting ready time of 9:30 we’d go upstairs, TOGETHER, and hit the hay when the double digits appear on the clock.

Then again, I don’t actually have to get up and go to work the next day. 
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On that note, I’ll be MIA for the next few days visiting a non-blog friend’s new baby! Wish me luck on a 3 hour drive with toddler in tow. By myself.