One of the hardest things about being a mom who works from home is the glaring lack of opportunity to do things yourself during the day. Case in point: When I had a doctor’s appointment last month…and couldn’t find anyone to watch my twin 2-year-old daughters, I had no choice but to drag them along with me and take turns holding them on my lap while my doctor went about her business. It’s this very arrangement that’s made me long for the era of going grocery shopping myself. Don’t get me… >> Read More
Soon after my son was born, my mother began coming over for day visits. She had generously offered to take a day off work each week to help around the apartment while I adjusted to life with a…newborn. Each visit, she’d take on a different household task, checking a box that existed clearly on a list in my mind before baby but only hazily now. Sure, the dishes were being washed, the dog being walked, the laundry being done all alleviated the general feeling of chaos I had descended into, but really,… >> Read More
"Star Wars" wasn’t on my radar (I was more of a "Star Trek" fan) until I started dating my now husband in college. He was delighted to be the first person to show me the original movies. We saw…each of the prequels in the theater. As any true fan will tell you, they were pretty disappointing. It didn’t matter—we saw them all when they were released. As I learned from him, "Star Wars" fans don’t mess around. When my children (now ages 12, 9, and 3) were born, one by one they were… >> Read More
I went back to full-time work after having my first child, and while I missed him terribly, at the time, it was the right decision for me and my family. But once I had my now 2-year-old twin…daughters, I realized that going back to full-time work would not only be logistically difficult, but practically useless from a financial standpoint. Given the cost of daycare and commuting, it just didn’t pay to go back to a day job. Instead, I figured I’d look for a part-time work arrangement once my girls got past… >> Read More
“Is it poop or pee or blood?” my 6-year-old and 3-year-old daughters demand to know, pounding on the bathroom door as I sit inside on the toilet.
This is the scene on a random Saturday four…years ago. My bones ache for a respite from my lovelies. Is excretion not one aspect of my life that could actually remain my experience alone? Once my children emerged out of that region, couldn't it be mine alone again? I have already acknowledged that I do not own my children (thanks, Mr. Gibran), but… >> Read More