Crabby Mommy has returned, with a vengeance

So I'm almost two months into my job, and it couldn't be going better. The work is interesting, stimulating, challenging. The people are smart, fun, gracious and welcoming. I ride my bike to work. I'm home in time to make dinner for my family most nights. And I'm getting paid.

Unfortunately, I believe I have been a bit of a beast to my family.

Today W, my seven-year-old, attacked me at the door when I came home because he couldn't wait for me to read his book report, which he'd finished in one day. Clearly he'd been working intently on it. I sat down to read it, and the first words out of my mouth were: Okay, you guess.

"Wow, honey, what a terrific job you've done!" Nope, wrong.

"This is very well-written. I can't believe you did all this in one afternoon!" I wish.

No, the first three thoughts came out of my mouth something like this:

"Does Popper's [the title of the book is Mr. Popper's Penguins] have an apostrophe in it? I think it does."

And then: "This part needs to be a complete sentence."

And finally: "What word is this supposed to be? Check your spelling."

What a jerk of a mom, huh? And of course W did what any sensible seven-year-old would do. He ripped it out of my hands and ran to his room, shouting "No one gets to read this EVER AGAIN!"

In case you were wondering, by the way:

1. I felt horrible.
2. I tried to apologize, several times.
3. He did not forgive me, and in fact started to tear up every time I tried to apologize.
4. I still haven't read the rest of it, because he hid it from me.
   

Bad Crabby Mommy. Bad, bad Crabby Mommy.

Fatigue? Partly. Distraction? Partly. Feelings of being overwhelmed, overcommitted, overloaded? A bit. Lack of exercise, yes. Lack of girl time, yes, although I'm trying to protect that by convincing friends to come meet me for lunch.

I think I need to start meditating on all the positive things this change in my life is bringing me. Intellectual gratification. Free lunch on Mondays and Wednesdays. A paycheck. The opportunity to learn new skills and hone existing ones. New friends. New habits. And, if I meditate on these things long enough, a new attitude, I hope.

And now I have a new title: Working Mom

I. Am. So. Tired.

Considering that a) I like my job a lot so far, b) the commute is less than two miles, c) my husband has taken on many of the child-and-dinner duties that previously belonged to me, and d) I've been sleeping okay, I have been surprised at my level of exhaustion by the end of the day over these past few weeks since I started my first full-time job after eight years at home with my kids.

Why should this be so hard? All I've done, I think to myself, is trade one set of activities for another. Bye-bye to driving the carpool, buying the groceries, making the Costco runs, picking up around the house. Howdy to biking or walking to work, talking with grownups, absorbing complicated user-experience flowcharts, learning to use new helpful software tools, sitting in meetings, figuring out the complexities of my new employer's business model. Howdy also to being on my best behavior eight or nine hours a day, trying not to say anything stupid, trying to be funny so people will like me. That's one thing you don't really have to do as a full-time parent, actually - I never got into the habit of trying to impress other moms. They liked me or they didn't, and I didn't much care. But at a job things are different. You need people to like you if you want to be effective.

Maybe all the mental energy and heavy thinking are tiring me out. Maybe as I feel more comfortable with the job and the business and the people I won't come home so exhausted I can barely sit at the dinner table without melting. Maybe next week. I hope so, because my children, I think, are beginning to wonder if this is all the Mommy they're going to get from now on. And I would hate for the answer to be yes.

To be clear, I really like the job so far. And I really like the people. It's not about them. It's an adjustment, that's all. A period of transition and acclimation. I knew there would be some. It's just hitting me harder than I thought.

Two things that made me laugh today

Somehow, my kids knew that today was a good day to make me laugh.

First, this morning: E, 10, has been in a musical theater mood lately. We were sitting at our side-by-side computers at the desk in the kitchen, and he was humming to himself. Do you know Hair? Yes, lots of kid-inappropriate material for sure, but I can't deny my child "Aquarius" or "Let the Sun Shine" in good conscience. I figure the racy stuff will go over his head.

And so he's humming "Initials" from Hair, which goes like this:

LBJ took the IRT
Down to 4th street, USA
When he got there, what did he see?
The youth of America on LSD.

But what does E sing?

...When he got there, what did he see?
The youth of America on MSG.

And I laughed.

Then at bedtime, W, 7, took a turn cracking me up. I'm starting a new job tomorrow, my first full-time job in more than 10 years, and I was telling W that I'm a little nervous.

"It's like the first day of school," I told him. "Lots of people I don't know, a new desk, new work to do. It's scary."

"Don't worry, Mommy," he said sweetly and sleepily. "You'll make lots of new friends."

And, again, I laughed. Tomorrow, when I'm nervously moving through my first day in my new job, trying to adjust to my new role as Working Mom, I will think about MSG and making new friends, and I'll feel better.

The guilt of having sick kids

My younger son's nose was running when I picked him up at school today. What do you think my first thought was?

For those of you who guessed "Oh, you poor baby" -- nope. Try again.

What's that? You think it was "What can I do to help this boy feel better soon?" Uh, no.

Oh, so you say it must have been: "Wow, I hope he's better in time for our trip to Mexico this Saturday. It would be so miserable for him to fly with a cold."

Unfortunately, my first thought was none of these. Instead, it was: "Crap, he'd better not give it to the rest of us."

And my second was equally unsympathetic: "Don't touch me, kid. I know those fingers have been near your nose. I can't afford to get sick now."

I wish I were the kind of mom who cuddled her kids when they felt sick, got into bed with them to pass the day watching movies, hugged and kissed them to help them through the misery of their illness. Instead, I treat them as though they've got the plague, and I touch them as little as possible. I wash and Purell my hands every few minutes to get rid of their cooties. I won't let them use my cell phone or help set the table. GET AWAY, GET AWAY, I'm thinking constantly.

To be fair, if there are germs in the house, they always settle on me, and as some of you know, I never get a little bit sick. I get a lot sick. A small cold for everyone else turns into a major ordeal for me. Such is the burden of asthma. Still and all, I hate the fact that I treat my kids like lepers when they're sniffly, and I wonder if they're going to remember it.

Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I've got to go wash my hands.

Thanksgiving in March

I would like to say thank you to my unbelievable husband M, for:

1. Teaching E to play the cello. I never thought it would work for father to take son on as a student. It never would have worked if I'd been the parent doing the teaching.
   
2. Having the patience to practice with E almost every day for the past three years. E is not always the perfect student (well, what kid is?), and because his teacher is his dad, E sometimes takes more liberties than he'd be able to with a non-family-member teacher. M has stuck with it through some snits and snarky phases that certainly would have taken me out of the game.
   
3. Pushing E, even when he is no longer willing to be pushed.
4. Giving E the first few bars of the Bach G major suite, a piece every violist and cellist plays at some point. Hearing E working on those opening arpeggios literally made me cry. I was older than E when I first played it, and I doubt my teacher realized that learning that piece was a defining moment in my musical education. Hearing E working on it brought me to my knees.

M, in case I don't say it enough - you are amazing for doing this, and doing it so well. Thank you for being a father our boys will want to emulate.

I am one conflicted mommy

After eight years at home with my kids, I am going back to work.

The decision itself wasn't a hard one; things changed in our family, and it was necessary. And, truthfully, I feel like Cinderella at the ball, because the job I'm going to start in a few weeks will be terrific. I'll discuss the specifics another time, but the high points are:

1. It's directly in my area of expertise - developing new online products that showcase user-generated content.
2. I've liked every single person I've met at this company so far.
3. It's been voted one of the best places to work in Los Angeles several times by the LA Business Journal.
4. It's less than two miles from my house.

So, as you can imagine, there are a lot of things to be excited about. And I am excited. But I'm also nervous, and most of that is about the changes this will mean for my kids and my relationship with them.

I thought I'd make a list for you, so you can easily see the breadth of my feelings on the matter:

I'm excited because...

• It's been a long time since the business-oriented part of my brain has gotten a decent workout. The job search process reawakened it, and that felt great. Stimulating.
• I've always been really good at my job, and this time, I know, will be the same. In fact, I may be better for having been away for so long - I have definitely learned a lot in the past eight years about time management, people management, selling my ideas to skeptics, harnessing creativity, and resilience.
  
• My kids already seem to see me differently, with more respect. In the past, whenever I brought up my past career, they reacted with a combination of amazement and disbelief ("You had a JOB? in an OFFICE? No, Mom, your job is to stay home and take care of US"). Time for them to learn that women are equally capable of bringing home the bacon (not the kind from the grocery store).
• I like earning money.
• I think working will make me a more interesting person.
• I really like feeling like I'm on the cutting edge, and when you work in product development for an Internet company, you are.
• I'll be motivated to wear nicer clothes.
• I'll get to meet smart new people.
• The money thing.
  

But I'm nervous because...

• I will have less time with my kids. Now, if it works out the way I think (hope) it's going to, most of my office time will coincide with their school day. The hours I'll miss are in the 3-6pm range, give or take. That's carpool time, snack time, homework time. Which I have really enjoyed. But their dad will be with them, and he deserves a turn to enjoy it too.
  
• I won't have as much time to exercise, which is bound to have an effect on my body (and possibly my disposition). On the other hand, many days I'll be able to walk or bike to work, which is something, at least.
• I'm worried that my kids will decide they like spending the afternoons with their dad more than they enjoyed spending them with me. Juvenile, yes, I know. Still.
• Have I mentioned that I haven't worked for eight years? I wonder if I even know how to have a job anymore. My mom friends who've already made this transition assure me it's like riding a bike.

And I feel guilty because...

• I don't think I'm actually going to miss driving on the 405 freeway in the afternoons.
• I don't think I'm actually going to miss volunteering at school (although I will miss the other women I volunteered with, for sure).
• I don't think I'm actually going to miss my kids that much. They're gone most of the day anyway.
• I know I'm not going to miss homework hour.
  
• I worry that my husband will equate being happy to go back to work with not feeling grateful for the years I was able to spend at home - and I am (grateful).
  

I know all these feelings, excited and nervous and guilty, are normal. That doesn't make them any less real.

Anyone out there who's been there, done that: Please post a comment and tell me how you dealt with all of these things. I need chatter.

Like a virgin

Had a very interesting conversation with E the other day about the definition of "virgin." He was quite sure he knew what it meant, but about three sentences into our talk I had my doubts. So I asked him to define it, and he said, "It's someone who's never been married."

Uh-huh. Sort of. Kinda on the right track. Right?

We've had the sex talk before, at an age-appropriate level, about a year ago. At the end of that talk, he asked a very wise question: Do people do it when they're not trying to make a baby? To which I said, well, yes, sometimes. Why? he asked. Because it feels good, I answered. I'm not going to lie to the kid. I put it in the proper context (grownups who love each other and are in a longterm, committed relationship).

So this time, in the car last Sunday, I explained that technically a virgin is someone who's never had sex. "Oh," he said. And then, a beat later: "So I'm a virgin, right?"

"You bet," I said. "And I hope you'll stay that way for a long, long time."

Another beat. "So ___ [single 40ish female friend] is a virgin too, right?"

This time I was the one who took a pause. And then I said, "What makes you think she's a virgin?"

"Because..." and he said the next part slowly, as if he kind of knew it wasn't really right: "Because she isn't married and doesn't have kids?"

At which point I reminded him of the earlier birds-and-bees talk. Grownups do mostly have sex, I said. Because it feels good. For adults who love each other. In longterm, committed relationships.

He changed the subject shortly thereafter. Hasn't brought it up since. I'd really like to know whether it sank in, or which part sank in, anyway. And what he thinks about it all.

Of course, since he's a regular reader of this blog, I bet he'll tell me. And possibly you.