The Daily Grind of a Work @ Home Mom...

In Defense of Hannah Horvath

I love the show Girls. I told you about it in June and I still love it. I think it's awesomely funny, raw, and entertaining. The fact that it's written, directed, and produced by a 26-year-old girl woman who also stars in it is just the icing on the cake. I am so intrigued by Lena Dunham, in fact, that I used vacation time to attend a screening of her movie, Tiny Furniture, along with a Q&A with her and her mom, the artist Laurie Simmons, last week at the MFA in Boston. While I wasn't as taken with her movie as I am with her show, it was fun to be part of the intimate gathering.

Since Girls has become more popular in its second season, it's also become the center of an evergrowing maelstrom of emotion. Check out the entertainment blogs, even just the regular blogs, on a Monday after pretty much any episode and you're going to read comments written by folks who hate Hannah Horvath/Lena Dunham so intensely that they spew venom at her every chance they get. They even use her real name and her character's name interchangeably making the reader wonder if the commenter is so caught up in the root of their feeling that they are confused by the fact that this character, is just that - a fictitious character.

It's sad, really.

This past Sunday was a particularly "inflammatory" episode in which Hannah - not to be confused with her more polished, shabby-chic real-life alter ego, Lena - has a whirlwind affair (and by affair I mean tons of hot sex) with an older, hotter man. How she meets him is irrelevant but she goes on an instinct, makes the first move (confident women of the world, unite!) and proceeds to spend much time in her splendid, naked, glory with this buff, angular, rich guy, having hours of what is probably unpolished, dirty, sexy, sex.

Hannah Horvath is no Claudia Schiffer, she would probably be the first to admit it. Which is why I feel empowered as part of the non-Claudia Schiffer-women's club when a woman, deemed by society as less than perfect, gets naked (aka vulnerable) on TV. She even (GASP!) seems comfortable in her own skin! With a rich, hot guy no less! Isn't he grossed out by her imperfect abs? Her out of place brown hair? Her thighs that touch?

And all I could think was that I wish I had a quarter of Hannah's self-confidence when I was in my 20s. I wish it hadn't taken the better part of thirty-something years to focus more on being in the moment and less on how I look in the moment. I wish I'd learned far earlier on that if two people are naked together and one is worrying about flabby thighs or wavy arms, they're probably ALONE in their thoughts cuz the other person is probably thinking - laid! I'm getting laid! Especially true if you a heterosexual woman.

The haters hated. Slate writer David Haglund said, "I like when writers and directors push us to empathize with characters who are not likable—but then you have to make those characters interesting. This episode somehow put a hard-to-like character in a hard-to-believe situation which also, frankly, was pretty dull."

Haglund is certainly entitled his opinion - if he finds Hannah hard to like, that's his prerogative. One that I can't contest since I'm not experiencing the show in the shoes of a 40-something year old man. However...

Hannah is nothing if not interesting. She'll pretty much do anything for a story (a writer!) including take a cocaine-fueled journey through clubland with her gay ex-boyfriend, and is as adventurous as any character.  But the real question I have for Haglund is, why is this situation so hard to believe? Is it because Hannah is an average looking woman who makes a move on a 40-something year old rich, hot man? Or because this average woman had the confidence to go get 'em?

Is David Haglund secretly an average woman who has been rejected by hot, older men therefore lending credit to his words? Or is he a hot, older guy who rejects all average women (I think not. Just sayin'.) Hey David, men, even the good looking ones, dig confidence. It's a thing. Really.

I''ve seen Twitter steams and Facebook pages that call Hannah out as a vapid narcissist (along with anyone who enjoys the show. Hold on while I grab my tissues - not), a loser, gross, wrong, and just about every other negative adjective stirred up by our wonderful society crawling with perfect creatures.

Before watching the episode, which did, I admit, involve lots of jiggly boobie shots and a not-flat stomach, I saw Facebook status updates saying, "don't eat while watching Girls," and "Girls made me hurl" (who's vapid now!). And when I got around to watching the episode on Tuesday (it's been a busy week and my DVR betrayed me), I called back to my memory where I had seen these updates and low and behold my mind did go there. I thought, man, I sure as hell wouldn't want to see you naked.

Or maybe I was just offended that even the very ordinary people that I associate myself with are part of this elitist group that would never want to look at anyone imperfect - or real - on TV. And it made me sad. And it made me defensive. Because in spite of my brilliant writing (hehe), I am part of the 99% of us that are imperfect. In many, many ways.

So maybe this is why I love Hannah Horvath (Lena Dunham seemed cool, too, though I don't know her as well so hard for me to judge). Hannah is the every women (in their 20s). She's not gorgeously stunning or impossibly perfect. She's just who she is and to me, real beats perfect ANY day.

 

I have a girl crush on Lena Dunham

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

So, you may have heard about this new show that aired recently on HBO called Girls. It's basically the story of four post-college aged girls trying to make a go of it in New York City. Sound familiar? Well other than the four girls trying to make a go of it in New York City part, Girls bears NO resemblance to the former HBO show that had the same, if completely different basis.

Confused?

While Sex and the City was entertaining in the way that Beverly Hills 90210 was entertaining (very attractive people living totally unrealistic lives with money that seemed to fall from the sky and closets full of awesome clothes for the times - high waisted pleats are not my thing), Girls is a much more relatable tale of what might have actually happened to me if my alternate universe had included a move to NYC in my 20s. And by that I mean, living in a shabbily furnished apartment featuring knick-knacks made mostly in Guatemala and purchased from street fairs instead of a magazine perfect place outfitted by Pottery Barn, having friends over for opium sessions (JUST KIDDING, WORK PEOPLE) rather than meeting for Cosmo's at the newest club/restaurant, and hooking up with commitment phobic men who, for no good reason, I imprint on, Twilight style, to no avail.

And while Girls is truly HBO's best decision since Six Feet Under (IMO), the biggest reason I have for loving this show is its 24-year-old creator, Lena Dunham.

She writes it. She stars in it. She directs it and created it. Never heard of her? Neither had I until I started watching. Why would I have heard of her? She's a girl, who, let's be honest, has done not very much until now. But now she's shown us what's floating around her unbelievably talented, somewhat weird, very quirky mind and I for one, love it. It's uninhibited yet completely inscure. It portrays the best part of female friendships and the worst side of girlfriends. It uses otherwise dirty words, has entirely awkward 24-year-old sex scenes and quote-worthy lines that are so hysterical it's hard to imagine they're coming out of such a young girl.

At 24 I was not even myself yet. I don't know who I was and I'm sure I showed traces of the me I am now but I wasn't me. Not yet. So it's hard to imagine that this genius is coming from Lena Dunham's 24-year-old brain.

Everyone's favorite chick-flick writer, Nora Ephron, died this week. It seems Nora and Lena were friends and an article that appeared yesterday in The New Yorker that summarizes their short friendship (or mentor/mentee-ship) gives a glimpse into not only their relationship, but also a peek at Lena Dunham and her brilliant, expressive writing. It also soldifies the fact that she takes her advice from the right places - not from people who nod and smile in that disingenuous way people do but from the likes of Nora Ephron who seemed, from what I've read, to be a real, down to earth person who told the truth rather than what you wanted to hear and liked lunching at the cafe at Barney's because, well, so do I (even if I can't afford those delicious $31 salads).

Lena Dunham has an awesome show. She has surrounded herself with awesome actors (aren't the smartest people those who surround themselves with people at least as smart as they are?). And she's going to make many people into stars. That Zosia Mamet is seriously God's gift to comedy right after Lena Dunham.

Lena Dunham is the next Nora Ephron even if Meg Ryan will never be her protagonist. Girls everywhere can relate to an awkward sexual experience even if they can't imagine faking an orgasm over pecan pie. Not that orgasms and pecan pie don't rock. Cuz they do.

RIP Nora Ephron.

Rock on, Hannah Horvath.

 

Are you mom enough? I know I am!

Time Magazine released their latest issue today and unveiled a provocative cover that features a hot, blond mom standing with her boob exposed and her dumbstruck three-year-old suckling at it. 

Without reading the story and based on the headline, you'd think it would be about that beaten-to-death "Mommy Wars" topic that rears its head every 25 minutes (and I've written about more than once).  But it's not. It's actually a profile of Dr. Bill Sears, the 72-year-old doctor and author who began writing books 20 years ago that say parents must wear their babies as an appendage at all times, sleep with their babies lest they feel abandoned for 8 hours, breast-feed for at least one year to even be considered a mom, and pretty much arm your children with zero independence, no self-soothing skills and ensure that they need mommy and daddy for ev-er-y-thing until they at least 15.  He even warns that that babies who cry too much — even those who are left to "cry it out" for short periods at night as they learn to go to sleep on their own — could suffer permanent brain damage, leading to a lower IQ, behavioral problems and more. No, seriously!

But my own opinions aside, I learned about the Time cover only secondary to a segment that aired on this morning's Morning Joe (below), during which Managing Editor Rick Stengel of Time Magazine appeared, most likely to promote the new issue, but also to be on the receiving end of a host and a guest, both of whom have vaginas, about the potentially gratuitous boob shot it portrays and the message that the headline, "Are you mom enough?" sends.  I heard about it from my boss at work who saw the segment and said she thought of me as she is aware that I sometimes struggle with being a good full-time employee and being the type of mom my girls deserve.  She too is a mom who works hard, and undoubtedly has stuggled with the same sometime feelings of guilt - both about kids and work - and has encouraged me to work hard but not to miss those moments with my kids that can't be recovered.  I think about her advice often as I decide whether I can be spared at work for a few hours to chaperone a field trip or attend a religious service on a friday morning.

The opinion that moms must be all-mom-all-the-time in order to be a successful parent, along with Stengel's smug attitude about the cover, lit me a fire just hot enough to bother writing this post.  Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of breast-feeding, I'm a fan of bottle feeding, hell, I'm just a fan of feeding your child using whatever method ensures nourishment.  I've said it before, I don't judge how other parents parent, so long as a child is not put in harm's way. 

What I'm not a fan of, is slinging mud at both sides just to see who screams louder.  And you know, this cover, regardless of what's inside of it, will prompt countless conversations, blog posts, tweets, status updates, Pins, etc about who is the mightiest parent of them all.  Is it the stay-at-home-mom who wore her baby until her back broke, nursed till baby was enrolled in kindergarten, and snuggled baby and (all previous kids) in the "family bed" forcing daddy to lock himself in the bathroom with nudie magazines and a sock?  Or is it the parents who kept baby beside them until they decided it was time for his/her own room, nurse or bottle fed or combined the two till it was time, encouraged their kids to walk, talk, and eat at their own pace, and wore them once in a while just to get dinner on the table in a timely manner?

Really, who cares.  That's so not the point for me.  If you watch the segment below, the two points that do resonate for me are:

1) According to Stengel, the image on the cover "represents the attachment between mother and child."  There is SO MUCH WRONG with this statement that it's crazy.  According to Stengel, if you don't have a kid hanging off your boob, you have failed at bonding with your kid.

Loving that this comes from a MAN.  I guess to complement this view, Stengel sees no way for dads to bond as strongly with their children, since they have no boobs.  I mean, how could they?  And if you're a mom who didn't nurse then obviously your bond with your kid is far less than if you had.  I mean, obv.

2) The hosts brought up a great point - if you're a dad who leaves work early to go cheer on your kid in little league you are a hero.  But if you're a mom who needs to cut out early to take little Junior to the pediatrician?  Well, that's coming outta your vacation time.  And you can be sure that your promotion just moved a little further south, Mom.

Oh, the double-standards that abound in our modern, post-feminist, tech-savvy, contemporary society continue to astound.  Personally, I feel lucky to have found a place of employment filled with managers who are moms and get that even though I'm not at the top of the food chain, my kids sometimes take priority, even between the hours of 8:30am and 5:30pm.  Lucky me, but it's cover pieces like this that send a message to women that screams if you don't sell your soul to your children, you are not worthy of having any.

And that, my friends, couldn't be further from the truth.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

The Fresh Diet Post-Mortem

So I spent a week enjoying fresh food that I did not cook, calorie-count, weigh or measure, delivered to my door on a daily basis. 

Can you say WINNING!

Ok - so about the food: most of what I ate on The Fresh Diet was delicious.  Things I might not otherwise eat; turkey meatballs that were very tasty and nicely textured, steak & egg burrito with pico de gallo and sour cream that was a breakfast treat, even a small steak one night that fixed my craving for red meat.  Most of the food was great.

Since so many Twitter folks have asked me about it, I'm going to go into more detail than I might have otherwise, but the idea is to honestly share my thoughts and if it means anything, I'm continuing The Fresh Diet even though my free trial is over.  I've lost over 7lbs over the past 3 weeks and I have to attribute at least 1/3 of that to the fact that I looked forward to my next meal during my week on TFD.

Food stuff:

• Salad - I love a good salad and some of my salads were great.  I loved the citrus glazed chicken
  salad with honey ginger dressing, loved the "classic" cobb (sans egg), loved the horseradish dressing but did not love any of the salads topped with steak.  They were simply beef on greens, no veggies, etc. and they didn't satisfy me. Going forward, I plan to stick with chicken topped salads.
• The dips were worthy of dipping.  What's better than freshly made hummus or olive spread? I wasn't nuts about the minuscule pieces of pita that accompanied them, though.
• Wasn't wild about anything called "bruschetta" which was like salsa, or the mini egg salad pita hors d'ouevres as their size just made me hungrier HOWEVER the chicken tenders hit the spot as did the chicken satay.  What can I say - I'm a protein girl.
• Loved the omelettes and breakfast burritos (pictured) - artichoke and brie cheese? Goat cheese, sun-dried tomato and spinach?  Yes, please!
• Desserts - butterscotch chip cookies rocked, as did the coconut brownie.  I LOVED the berries with ricotta cheese (I added sweetner - yum), and the chocolate chip bread pudding, but didn't love the artificially sweet tasting regular chocolate pudding.
• Presentation - While the food was mostly really above average for this type of thing, I thought TFD could separate the sides from the main courses.  As a result of the transportation, the meals sometimes had to be prettied up (who doesn't style their food prior to eating??) but I am aware that it would not be very environmentally friendly. So maybe comparmentalizing the different foods could be an idea TFD might consider in the future.

Portions were, well, "weight-loss" portions.  In other words, while portions were size-challenged, I never walked away from a meal hungry.  Being not a large woman, I selected the lowest caloric range so there were days I was hungry between meals and found myself adding a 100 calorie yogurt, or a small, low-calorie soup.  I also added veggies and salad with low-cal dressing to the days I ate sandwiches for lunch.  I would say that it would be nice if the meals came with the salad since anyone knows that salad is the Joanie to the sandwich's Chachi. 

In conclusion - TFD food was there every morning, was never late and made no excuses.  Better than a dinner date, that's right!  For details about delivery options as well as pricing, visit The Fresh Diet.  For now, can receive 3 days free with the purchase of a 31-day plan at $29.99 per day. Use promo code SEMOMMAR29.

Like I said, just because my free trial is done doesn't mean I am.  I'm on-board as a paying customer for the next while at least and you should try it too, if you are looking for a simple way to shed a few for Spring without deprivation. 

I may even blog about it.

“This post is sponsored by The Fresh Diet. I also received a week’s supply of The Fresh Diet food to facilitate this review. All opinions are my own.”

Would you like a little t & a with your tech?

I came across this little segment (below) that appeared on the BBC about how many companies employ the use of hot women to lure the mostly male attendees at CES to their booths. In case you are not in the tech industry, the Consumer Electronics Show is the world's largest consumer technology tradeshow where major companies exunveil new products, and pretty much everyone in the tech industry attends.  The piece did a good job of showing both sides of the story but my question is, is this really even a story?

If you watch the piece, you'll see a woman who works in the tech industry who isn't necessarily offended by the blatant use of the the old adage "sex sells" on the show floor, but rather she finds it "uncomfortable" and "weird" and wishes that the message that this is what her sex is here to do (ie, be sexy) would somehow be different. 

Another woman says that the "booth babes" blast an inaccurate message of how women fit into the technology industry.

Hmmm...  I wonder what the ratio of female industry attendees at CES is versus the number of sexy booth babes.  I'm going to bet that there were thousands of women walking the show floor this week versus the few hundred that were working it.  And I'm being generous since this show took place in Vegas after all, and unless something's changed since the last time I was there, a prevailing theme in Vegas happens to be hot women.  Also I wonder if there was food being sold within the walls of CES.  Were the food sellers indicative of who takes part in the tech industry?

No more than the sexy ladies were, my friends.

Ok, clearly I'm a woman and while I'm not a feminist by any stretch, I believe in equal whatever and not only that, I've been part of the tech industry in one way or another since graduating university.  And I'm here to say, this isn't a life thing, it's a world-wide thing.  In case you missed the memo, sex sells.  And these tradeshows are as much about marketing as they are about anything else.

So I'm not surprised that serious tech companies hired Vegas showgirls to, ahem, handle their product at CES, all that surprises me is how lazy this tactic is.  Don't these behemoth brands have high-priced  PR agencies and ad firms on the payroll to help them come up with some new, compelling way to stand-out in a crowd?  Aside from the animal vile man who asked the gal in the booth for her phone number, are we still so intrigued by a little t & a?

Seems so.  I mean, even women (GASP) flock to the stands when People Magazine releases its Sexiest Man Alive feature each year.  And I saw MANY women fixing themselves when Harry Connick Jr. took the stage at Blissdom a few years ago.  I was there and I know I wasn't that taken with his music.  He was just very, very nice to stare at.

Double standard much?

So let's just admit it and get it over with.  We can be smart, motivated, successful women AND we can be sexy - why does one compromise the other?  In fact, it's my humble opinion that one complements the other.  So let's just agree to own it and enjoy the show.

'Booth Babes' Upset CES Women

From the archives: Escaping the Madness, AKA Going Back to Work

This post first appeared on TDG on June 28, 2011 and was originally published at The Parenting Connection on June 25, 2011.  But I really, really like it.  And you will too.

About a year ago, I made the leap from being a work-at-home-mom who blogged, maintained my webstore, and freelanced, to going back to work outside of my house in an actual office. For the preceding three years, most of my work had happened within the confines of my home office, with the exception of events and the occasional meeting.  Often, it happened with a small child in my lap.

I was the quintessential work-at-home-mom.

Going back to work didn’t happen overnight.  For months I was restless.  Don’t get me wrong – my schedule was a dream.  I had the privilege of doing drop-off and pick-up, carpooling between play-dates, attending mommy and me classes, and I had my own thing on the side.  It was any mom’s dream job.

Except it wasn’t my dream job.

During my down time between shuttling back and forth from ballet and music class, I came to the conclusion that I was – dare I say it – bored.  I was enjoying my days, but I wanted more.  And in order to achieve my personal goals, I knew I had to get out of my yoga pants, and back into my work clothes.

I needed to be clever.  I had been out of the work force for a while, but it hadn’t been all diapers and wipes.  In that time, I had become a member of the blogger community and I’d also learned a little HTML code by way of my webstore.  But what’s more is that I had been paying attention.  I knew social media was becoming less of a sub-culture and more of a force to be reckoned with.  I was intrigued by this new platform and I had the unique experience of being both a blogger and a former PR person.  And I’d been to journalism school.   This combination, I quickly learned, made me marketable.  So I forged ahead and landed a gig that suited my goals and my Mom needs. Flexibility was paramount since I wasn’t interested in being that mom who introduced herself to the other parents at graduation.  I wanted to attend pediatrician appointments yet still be included in business development meetings at work.  I wanted a lot, but luckily, I was able to find it.

Finally, I was back.  Doing a job, getting paid by someone else.  Talking with other human beings (over three feet tall), attending meetings, eating lunch without tiny voices making demands and without little bodies who wouldn’t sit still even after being warned one, two, three times that a time-out is imminent if they didn’t stay in their seats.

Here’s the part where you’re expecting me to admit how much I missed the tiny voices, the little bodies, the counting.  But the thing is, I didn’t.  And still, most days, I don’t.  I don’t because I know that my absence during the day makes me a better mom the rest of the time.  I’ve learned the alchemy of quality over quantity.  My working outside of the house brings me a sense of accomplishment that I was missing before.  It fills the intellectual void that is crucial to my, and therefore my family’s well-being.

Working moms vs. stay-at-home moms.  The debate endures with interesting points of view for both teams.  But for this Mama the choice is clear, and one year later I’m more sure than ever.

There's something about Barbie

I don't remember playing with Barbie as a child.  I remember Cabbage Patch Kids, Easy Bake Ovens (nothing like cooking by light bulb) and Lite Brite, but not much in the way of Barbie or her friends.  In fact, I can recall seeing one of those hot pink Barbie convertibles at a friend's house and being very interested in it because I didn't have one of my own and because it was so big and pink.  I don't think there was any moral reason why I had no Barbie in my toy collection (my parents took me to see Porky's when I was 7 by "accident"), it probably had more to do with a low interest level.

So imagine my surprise when my four-year-old daughter asked for the "new" Barbie for her birthday.  When she couldn't remember exactly which one it was, her older sister chimed in.  "It's Barbie Goes to Charm School, Mom."  Right.

She's five.

Gotta love TV commercials aimed at five-year-old's.

When a friend asked for an idea of what to get Sabrina for her b-day, I relayed the message.  Charm School Barbie.  And as a mom to two boys, she couldn't wait to hit the store to pick up a doll.

So, Barbie showed up last night.  What is a Charm School Barbie, right?  Well, she's dressed in a pink bustier, has on a multi-layered skirt, and is topped off with a tiara.  The skirt is long but when you wind up Barbie (from the rear, of course), the long layer disappears into the short part and voila - fun-time Barbie takes the place of proper Barbie.

Or as I like to call her, Madonna and the Whore Barbie. 

In case you need a visual:

Of course, Barbie comes with a clip-on t-shirt for the more virtuous look (probably to cover up when she goes home to her parents). 

There's something about Barbie in general that I find less-than innocent.  I don't know if it's her tiny waist against those gimormous boobs, or the fact that she's always decked out in these hot, sexy outfits. Something about those big baby blues and that innocent smile.

Or maybe it has to do with the fact that I've stumbled upon this scenario in my own homen more than once:

Or this:

Soooooooo fun! Or whatever.

In any case, I'm calling a moratorium on Barbie presents in our house for a while.  And while we're at it, what exactly are they teaching at charm school, anyways?

I'm a Very Bad Mom

Kindergarten started a few weeks ago. After a few days of tears and a little clinginess at drop-off, we’re settled in and perfectly happy. The classroom I bring my daughter to every day is so inviting and warm, I sometimes have a hard time leaving to head to my office where I get to spend eight hours behind a desk working with high-level technology companies to execute their public relations strategies. Believe it or not there are days when I’d rather curl up on the window-seat with my delicious 5-year-old and read books about ladybugs, and butterflies, and puffy hearts.

But I can’t. In fact, I see her into her classroom and bolt to my car to begin my daily commute that takes 45 minutes when the same 15 miles should take about 20 minutes.

OK, let me preface this by saying I love to work. I get to spend my days surrounded by people who are highly educated, mostly much smarter than I am, super nice (crazy, I know) and extremely motivated. I feel great at work and while it’s so new (I recently switched jobs), I can already tell that this is a good place for me.

But I still felt a bit sad that I didn’t even bother to fill out the CORI form that came home from school because I know that I’m not one of the moms who will chaperone (chaperone!) the apple picking field trip. I deleted the email begging parents to join the PTO because I can’t imagine being able to fit meetings and teas and such into my schedule (do I really have what it takes to be a PTO mom anyway?) and it’s unlikely that I’ll raise my hand for the school’s jazz band that’s looking for members (if you know me at all, this will come as no shock).

But here’s the thing: while I do feel guilty that I’m not always there and I dash home to just make it in time to eat chicken nuggets or mac ‘n cheese with my girls before it’s bath time, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You know how some people say that they prosper under pressure? They get adrenaline from controlled chaos? Yup – that’s me.

Last month, TODAYMoms released a study about moms who work and the findings weren’t all that surprising – working moms have a love-hate relationship with their jobs, blah blah blah. What does surprise me is the sheer volume of mothers who still feel guilt admitting that they like working outside of their home. Why is this so embarrassing? Who cares if your neighbor thinks you're less than because you don't wipe every sniffle and tend to every scrape? I will be the first to tell you that I’d rather come up with a creative tactic for a client than do laundry and while I don’t hate the playground, I’m not gonna lie and say I loooooovvveee it. I like to have my own life while I know my kids are busy learning how to build their own and then coming together at the end of the day to talk about it.

Quality vs. quantity. Has to count for something, right?

I have experienced being a mom who worked from home. And I have been a working mom (outside of the home) for a while now. And I have to say that despite the missed trips to the apple orchard, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I also used formula and bottles sometimes. OHMYGOD.

Judge away.

I'm on Team Ablow

Remember my post about Bebe Gloton, the creepy breast-feeding doll meant for kids? Well, recently Dr. Keith Ablow (the forensic psychiatrist who became a household name during the Scott Peterson trial) and "parenting expert", Jessica Gottlieb, appeared on Fox and Friends to discuss the doll. He's on one side of the debate (mine, actually, almost exactly), and she, as usual, is the opposition. Though I respect her opinion, it's rare that I agree with it since I find Jessica to be much more of a extremist than I am. I guess the good news is that I can start calling myself a "parenting expert" now, since I too have kids and hey! I'm also a blogger! But I digress.

Check it out for yourself:

Escaping the Madness, AKA Going Back to Work

This post was originally published at The Parenting Connection on 6/25/11.

About a year ago, I made the leap from being a work-at-home-mom who blogged, maintained my webstore, and freelanced, to going back to work outside of my house in an actual office. For the preceding three years, most of my work had happened within the confines of my home office, with the exception of events and the occasional meeting.  Often, it happened with a small child in my lap.

I was the quintessential work-at-home-mom.

Going back to work didn’t happen overnight.  For months I was restless.  Don’t get me wrong – my schedule was a dream.  I had the privilege of doing drop-off and pick-up, carpooling between play-dates, attending mommy and me classes, and I had my own thing on the side.  It was any mom’s dream job.

Except it wasn’t my dream job.

During my down time between shuttling back and forth from ballet and music class, I came to the conclusion that I was – dare I say it – bored.  I was enjoying my days, but I wanted more.  And in order to achieve my personal goals, I knew I had to get out of my yoga pants, and back into my work clothes.

I needed to be clever.  I had been out of the work force for a while, but it hadn’t been all diapers and wipes.  In that time, I had become a member of the blogger community and I’d also learned a little HTML code by way of my webstore.  But what’s more is that I had been paying attention.  I knew social media was becoming less of a sub-culture and more of a force to be reckoned with.  I was intrigued by this new platform and I had the unique experience of being both a blogger and a former PR person.  And I’d been to journalism school.   This combination, I quickly learned, made me marketable.  So I forged ahead and landed a gig that suited my goals and my Mom needs. Flexibility was paramount since I wasn’t interested in being that mom who introduced herself to the other parents at graduation.  I wanted to attend pediatrician appointments yet still be included in business development meetings at work.  I wanted a lot, but luckily, I was able to find it.

Finally, I was back.  Doing a job, getting paid by someone else.  Talking with other human beings (over three feet tall), attending meetings, eating lunch without tiny voices making demands and without little bodies who wouldn’t sit still even after being warned one, two, three times that a time-out is imminent if they didn’t stay in their seats.

Here’s the part where you’re expecting me to admit how much I missed the tiny voices, the little bodies, the counting.  But the thing is, I didn’t.  And still, most days, I don’t.  I don’t because I know that my absence during the day makes me a better mom the rest of the time.  I’ve learned the alchemy of quality over quantity.  My working outside of the house brings me a sense of accomplishment that I was missing before.  It fills the intellectual void that is crucial to my, and therefore my family’s well-being.

Working moms vs. stay-at-home moms.  The debate endures with interesting points of view for both teams.  But for this Mama the choice is clear, and one year later I’m more sure than ever.