And They Said..

...that we'd need a double stroller. Not with our creative PJ.

XO

Working Mommy Update

I have been putting off this entry although I know that I want to write it and a couple of people out there want to read it, I've seen other bloggers write about their experiences going back to work or stopping work and no matter how balanced and personal the entries were, someone was insulted. Sometimes those blogs got forwarded over Facebook or Twitter and while I guess it may be awesome to see click numbers shoot up - aint nothing pretty about the wacked out world of the so-called "mommy wars".

Additionally, when I started this blog I promised myself that I wouldn't throw anyone under the bus - no matter how much they may deserve it - and while I may complain (and I did write an open letter to Angela Merkel and my beloved son), I'm really proud that to date I haven't broken my promise. Could change. But not yet.

So, dear readers, some of you work and have children; some of you don't and don't; some of you work from home and have children; some of you work from home and don't have children; and for some of you, your job is your home and/or your children. If whatever choice you are making is working for you and your family: good for you. Seriously. Go own your choice and rock it.

Lord, I hope that covered it. Back to Pickles and Onions...

I started back at work part-time in April. Then on August 1, I moved up to full-time. I am not joking when people ask me what working is like and I tell them, "Like a vacation. Every day." Going to the bathroom by myself remains the highlight - even better than the hot coffee, the warm lunch I didn't cook myself, and the adult conversation that doesn't revolve around baby or kid stuff.

For the first few months, the Mr. was at home with our little man and the two of them had a blast. Then we started transitioning to day care. The place that PJ was suppose to start at got pushed back a little due to some renovation work, so his caregiver actually came to our house. I cannot even begin to explain how amazing that is - so, please just believe me. Even better: she is great, accepting of PJ and joyful in his strengths, aware of the areas that aren't so fun, and encouraging of who he is as a little man. She is also patient, funny, caring. And somehow showed him that his stroller is great and he can even fall asleep in there. She's also convincing him that he can take long naps without nursing to sleep or daddy's cuddling.
Her nickname here is gonna be Miracle M. Cause, well, she is. Please please please like your job and stay, Miracle M. We love you.

But back to the blog...(again)

Awhile ago I wrote part of my philosophy of life and how it relates to working out of the home and in the home. I haven't changed my opinion. I love being with my little man and sometimes I really miss him during the day. Okay, be honest: I miss him at some point almost every single day. But I cannot be -because I do not want to be - what I think my little man deserves. Someone engaged, excited, repetitive with love, geared to toddler needs and growth.

Frankly, I can only sing the same song twice in one day. I can read the same book four times. Tops. I can do the same puzzle maybe once. I can wander around the same playground only every other day. I can wipe little hands twice a day and no more. Diapers max out at five. For the love of God: no more.

I am not good at routine - that's why I work in organizational change management. I seriously have no idea what my work day is going to look like when it starts and I like that. I struggle to follow through with the small structures, routines that I (or we) have managed to build for PJ, even though I know that he thrives in that stability at this point in life. I still can't do it. Not all day. What I can do is go to work and think about complicated, somewhat emotional topics, struggling to understand the complexity (and sometimes simplicity) of new situations and problem. I can deal with attitude and annoyance and silliness and structures and politics and policies and laughter and so much more...and I can pull energy from it. Enjoy it. Grow with it. Pull my hair out with it. And then turn that around and give it to my family, including the daily rush to pick up little man from his day care.

The full joy of seeing him and, even better, him seeing me. That joy washes over me every day. It is the highlight of my working day.

So, basically, faithful readers - this is another way to write what I already wrote. I like working. I love being a mommy. I like being a working mommy.

Be jealous or be angry or be proud. Just don't bother being insulted because this isn't about you; its about the crazy Pickles and Onions clan.

PJ in his bike seat on our way home from Miracle M's.

xo

Happy Half Birthday!

Wow, it has been a crazy week. Must have been because I haven't blogged since Monday. The short version of the story is: started off quiet, took a turn into Sick City, rebounded with a wonderful visit at friends', and is now ending with little man turning six whole months old.

The longer version is: turns out little man is willing to spend time in his (previously hated) stroller as long as he can sit up and comment on just about everything that goes past him.



And: Holy moses - I found my ab muscles. Turns out ten hours of puking my brains out and then dry heaving for about another five hours should be considering one hell of an abdominal work out. Not one that I would really recommend but highly effective for locating stretched out abs. No gym membership needed - just eat something off.

I had been curious how nursing would work if I got sick. I learned earlier that during a cold I needed to drink extra, extra water and that sneezing really pisses PJ off. This time I learned that my body will still create enough nutrition for my son even when I cannot keep water in my body. That just seems miraculous to me. I also learned that while sneezing still pisses PJ off, he could seriously care less if I lean over his body to vomit while he is nursing. Seriously, people: my boy is already ready for frat parties. And, no, there is no picture of that one. Your welcome.

Thankfully, Opa was able and willing to come over on both Wednesday and Thursday to help take care of PJ. On Wednesday I was thankful that he could come but I also sorta expected him to come: he lives less than 30 minutes away; loves PJ; his wife, son and daughter are all out of the country; and he is retired. What else was he doing that could outrank our PJ?

Then PJ was ready for his nap, I was too sick to rock him after nursing, and PJ - who loves his structure - got more and more tired but was unwilling to sleep until I came over and did my job. I could almost hear his little voice chanting, "It is so difficult to find good help these days, dammit."

In my absence, Opa tried everything he could for over an hour, including singing, back rubbing, carrying, until PJ pushed his little arms off Opa's chest, looked him right in the eye, and then shrieked into his face without end.

Shrieked into his face. Without end. To know what that looked like, remember this blog entry?

I finally gave in and called the Mr to please come home, hoping that PJ would put on a more subdued performance for his papa. I also got a short reprieve and somehow managed to hold it together just long enough to finally rock PJ to sleep.

After all of that, imagine my (sheer) surprise when Opa was actually willing to repeat the performance on Thursday. Seriously, that is grandparent love right there. Kid shrieks in your face for an hour and you still give up your morning to spend time with him? And smile about it? Awesome.

Seriously awesome.

Opa, Oma and PJ in happier days.

And, we got to spend a nice afternoon with Little Precious's parents and younger brother (who is adorable beyond words). For one glorious half hour all three kids were asleep and the parents went wild....drinking tea and a beer and chatting. Mostly about kids.

There we are, wild and crazy:



And today my worm, my little man, my most precious PJ is six months old. Half a year. To celebrate, he is strutting his stuff in his little (borrowed) tuxedo and showing off his skills:

Six months old. Insane.


xo