Working 9 to 5

Or in my case, 8:00 to 4:00.

Next week will mark the beginning of yet another new chapter in our lives...I am going back to work full-time. You're looking at the newest Senior Habilitation Coordinator for a nearby county ARC. After months of searching in this competitive job market, Mike has not been able to find another sales job. So, after a lot of discussion, we decided that I would go back to work full-time and Mike would be stay home with the kids.

Dum-de-dum-dum!

My feelings about going back to work are mixed.

First of all, I was pretty damned impressed that after a 6-year absence from the workplace, that I was able to beat out three other applicants for the job. Not bad for an old broad (did I mention that my new boss is a good 10 years younger than me...Yikes).

In all honesty, I'm also excited about the prospect of getting up in the morning and having somewhere interesting to go. Somewhere where there's grown ups to talk to all day.

I have to be perfectly honest, I have no doubt that me staying home full time for all these years has been the best choice for my kids. When I think back just 2 years ago when we had three different therapists coming to the house everyday to work with Justin, it was indeed our only choice. There's no way I could've worked full-time when he was going through that...it would have been a logistical (and emotional) nightmare.

Having said that, being a stay at home parent is tough! Anybody who tells you otherwise has never tried it.

When I was in the hospital after giving birth to Ryan, I remember lying in my bed in my groovy Percodan state of mind and thought how great it was going to be to be at home with my new baby. Growing up a latch-key kid myself, I dreamed of doing things with my kids that I wished I'd done more of with my mom. Things like arts and crafts projects, baking chocolate chip cookies, making snowmen on a brisk winter's day.

And we did do all those things. Except that after making your 845th craft project you realize that your sick of cleaning up glue and paint from every conceivable surface (don't even get me started on glitter...I've seriously considered starting a petition to outlaw it altogether). Baking cookies is fun until you've eaten so many batches that you can see every bite manifest themselves as cellulite dimples on your ass. As for fun in the snow, you start to realize that the 30 minutes it takes to bundle your wee ones in their winter paraphenalia is simply not worth the effort when they complain after being outside for 5 minutes, "I'm cold. I want to go inside".

There are also unexpected challenges to being a stay at home parent. The boredom and bouts of loneliness were feelings that I was not prepared for.

And yet, I am loath to leave this life behind.

Why?

Because I've not missed a single "first" my kids have had. First words, first steps, first smiles. I was there for every single one of them.

Because for every frustrating moment, there have also been silly hilarious moments of playing with my kids that have made me laugh every single day.

Because there really is nothing better than waking up with your kids on a snowy morning and hearing the radio announce a “snow day”.

Because of the countless tiny vignettes that play like snapshots in my head and have comprised the past 6 years of my life.

It’s like that old saying, “I want to go…I just don’t want to leave.”

And, the truth is, I really am ready to turn this all over to my very capable husband (ready or not, Honey).

But I know a part of me will miss it forever.

Let's Hear It For the Ladies

I love men.

As a matter of fact, I have been blessed to have some truly exceptional men in my life.

My husband, my father, my grandfather...

and let me not forget the two little men in training I have who are currently beating the snot out of each other with their respective light sabers.

Yes, men are awesome.

But then there's women.

Mothers, sisters, friends.

What is it that connects us on such a spiritual level?

What is it that intuitively knows when a "sistah" is in trouble and needs...

a shoulder to cry on?

someone to talk to at 2 AM, no questions asked?

a good bottle of wine and a chick flick?

an ally, a comrade in arms, a cheerleader, a champion?

I don't know where it comes from, this magical power of female friendship.

I don't know why it is,

I'm just so glad it is.

With that in mind, a good friend emailed me the following and I thought I'd share.


Sisters

A young wife sat on a sofa on a hot humid day, drinking iced tea and visiting with her Mother. As they talked about life, about marriage, about the responsibilities of life and the obligations of adulthood, the mother clinked the ice cubes in her glass thoughtfully and turned a clear, sober glance upon her daughter.

"Don't forget your Sisters," she advised, swirling the tealeaves to the bottom of her glass.
"They'll be more important as you get older. No matter how much you love your husband, no matter how much you love the children you may have, you are still going to need Sisters. Remember to go places with them now and then; do things with them. Remember that 'Sisters' means ALL the women...your girlfriends, your daughters, and all your other women relatives too. You will need other women. Women always do."

What a funny piece of advice, the young woman thought. Haven't I just gotten married? Haven't I just joined the couple-world?

I am now a married woman, for goodness sake! A grownup! Surely, my husband and the family we may start will be all I need to make my life worthwhile!

Nevertheless, she listened to her Mother. She kept contact with her Sisters and made more women friends each year. As the years tumbled by, one after another, she gradually came to understand that her Mom really knew what she was talking about.

As time and nature work their changes and their mysteries upon a woman, Sisters are the mainstays of her life.

After more than 50 years of living in this world, here is what I have learned:

Time passes.
Life happens.
Distance separates.
Children grow up.
Jobs come and go.
Love waxes and wanes.
Men don't do what they're supposed to do.
Hearts break.
Parents die.
Colleagues forget favors.
Careers end.

BUT...

Sisters are there, no matter how much time and how many miles are between you. A girl friend is never farther away than needing her can reach.

When you have to walk that lonesome valley and you have to walk it by yourself, the women in your life will be on the valley's rim, cheering you on, praying for you, pulling for you, intervening onyour behalf, and waiting with open arms at the valley's end.

Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk beside you...

Or come in and carry you out.

Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters, daughters-in-law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers, Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended family, all bless our life!

The world wouldn't be the same without women...

and neither would I.

Coming out...

...of his shell, that is.

Justin has never been anti-social exactly. It's just that entering into Justin's world has always been a bit like trying to get into Studio 54. Some people are allowed past the velvet ropes and embraced with enthusiasm and affection.

Yet others don't quite make the cut.

Like Steve Rubell working the door, he just decides that certain people lack the right vibe and they are summarily dismissed and quite actively ignored.

While Mike, Ryan and I have always been privy to the inner sanctum of Justin's private club, there are, sadly, few other members.

Until recently.

Lately a subtle shift has been taking place and Justin has been reaching out more and more.

There was the little girl he approached at the beach. He grabbed her hand and said "hi". Then the two of them played in the water for 20 minutes. That's right. They played. As in, "together". For 20 minutes!

Need I say more?

There's his recent desire to be outside with the "Neighborhood Gang" (aka...the 3 to 6 kids who perpetually populate our neighboring backyards). His awareness and persistence in trying to keep up with this rowdy bunch has been nothing short of wonderful.

There was the recent visit with my younger brother (20 years my junior). Watching Justin tenuously allow his young uncle into his space, stirred feelings of tenderness in me that I really don't have the words describe.

The point is, with each week that passes, Justin is growing and developing more and more. Before our very eyes, he is morphing from baby to little boy. You'd think that after all this time I'd finally be ready for this metamorphous.

And I am.

Kind of.

Because it is a little disconcerting. In so many ways he is still very “baby-like”. Then out of nowhere, he will do something so completely unexpected. So completely age appropriate. And I’m completely thrown off kilter. It’s just hard sometimes to know when to push and when to protect, or over-protect, as the case may be.

One of my favorite sayings is how, as parents, our job is to give our children “roots and wings”.

Just keep flying, my little bird, and I promise I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

Blink of an Eye

I am not old but mellow like good wine. ~ Stephen Phillips

Forty isn't old, if you're a tree ~ Anonymous

40

The big 4-0

I am in my 40's

Don't mind me. I just keep hoping that if I repeat this enough times that next week, on my actual birthday, I won't wake up, hide under the covers and cry.

Yes, it is true. This Wednesday marks the beginning of a new decade for me. And while I'm happy to say I entered my 30s with a positive, devil-may care attitude, turning 40 is an altogether different animal.

And not for the reasons one may think.

For example, it’s not because I "look 40". In all modesty, I think I can say that, aesthetically speaking, the years have been kind...although my emerging crows feet and post-partum belly (can you still call it that when your "baby" is 4?") could happily take a hike any day now.

No there won't be any Botox, hair extensions or dressing wildly inappropriately for my age (Hello...calling all Housewives of NYC, NJ, et al.) to make me feel better this birthday.
Truth be told, if they made a reality series about my life it would probably be called the Housewife of Mayberry, but I digress.

The reason for my uneasiness this birthday comes from feeling that life is going by entirely too fast. It's like one minute I was 19 with a whole life ahead of me. A life filled with starting a career, getting married, buying a house, having children. A life filled with beginnings.

Then I closed my eyes and blinked.

And when I opened them again, all those beginnings were behind me. So, now I’m left wondering, what lays ahead?

Endings?

It's as if the last 40 years have been a roller coaster ride. Slowly I've ascended the steep hill with butterflies of anticipation about what was to come. Now, I feel like my birthday will mark a rapid descent for which I am altogether unprepared.

If only life came with an emergency brake. Or, better yet, a rewind button.

I'm just so not ready for this chapter of my life to end and the next one to begin.

And yet I know it already has.

I see it in my mom with her twinkling eyes and her unmistakable growing resemblance to my grandfather.

I see it in my grandparents who, after years in a nursing home, are barely recognizable from the vibrant couple they once were (Alzheimer’s is a bitch of a thing).

I see it in my children as they try more and more to assert their growing independence.

I see it in the grey hairs that pepper my husband's head (I've got them too but years of coloring my hair have helped me stay in denial).

All of these changes seem to be taking place and yet, I don't feel any different.

I still feel like that 19-year-old girl with her whole life ahead of her.

Only, it isn't.

I've been thinking a lot about Kelly Corrigan's book the Middle Place. For those unfamiliar, it's her memoir of how a cancer diagnosis takes her past that "middle place" in life, when you’re a parent and a child at the same time, and becoming an authentic adult. Here's one of my favorite lines from her book:

"Even when all the paperwork — a marriage license, a notarized deed, two birth certificates, and seven years of tax returns — clearly indicates you’re an adult, but all the same, there you are, clutching the phone and thanking God that you’re still somebody’s daughter."

Obviously, I would never compare turning 40 to a cancer diagnosis, but that line still really resonates with me. I'm quite happy in my "middle place". I wrap it around me like a security blanket. I'm just not sure I'm ready to leave that place behind.

So, for all of those who love me, please be patient with me. I may pout a little bit on the "big day", but I'll get over it and, more importantly, over myself.

I may even learn to embrace being a full-blown adult. Maybe.