Mom in DCity

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Don’t Hate What You Can’t Imitate

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Picture this: It takes me an hour to drive 7 miles home in bumper-to-bumper traffic. When I rush in the door, I manage to fix one girls hair while wrestling the other, WWE style, to put some clothes on. It’s 6:15 and we’re hoping to make it to the Spring concert at Lira’s school, which starts in 15 minutes.

In a moment of clarity, I stop cursing under my breath and notice how stinking adorable Zana is, sitting in her stroller with her tutu, sunglasses and cheesy grin; so I snapped this pic and put it on Instagram so the rest of the world could tell me how much they “like” it:

The Spring Concert was very cute, pretty much what you’d expect from these things. When it was over we all went out to the playground so the kids could run wear themselves out before bed.

Then it was bath time, story time, laundry time and then… work time. The fact that it’s 10 o’clock, doesn’t mean my work day is over. Thanks to a flexible schedule, I get to leave early 3 days a week and spend afternoons with the girls; but because of that, I work late in to the evenings, often times long after bedtime.

As I waited for my laptop to turn on, I checked Instagram, I noticed that among the “likes,” there was also a comment:

“Your work hours are bar none the best of anyone I will ever meet.”

It was from a former co-worker. A guy I was never particularly close with.

Because I am hot-headed, I showed this to Dave to make sure I’m not reading it wrong. “Sounds like a backhanded compliment to me. Why would he say that?”

That’s what I want to know! I went to reply to his comment but couldn’t think of anything appropriate. But here are a few of my ideas:

  • Some people are in the office half a day, others are in the office 15 hours a day and still can’t hack it.
  • I didn’t think you noticed when I worked, based on the fact that you were on Facebook 10 hours a day.
  • Why don’t you stop worrying about what I’m doing and go find a job

But I’m far too polite (ha). Dave thought I should remind him that I work from home at night, but I was annoyed at the thought of justifying myself to him. I decided to do nothing (well nothing but block him from my Instagram feed and unfriend him on Facebook). But I still felt bothered.

I work when the kids go to bed; I work on weekends; I’ve respond to texts from my boss Friday nat midnight and I’ve had Skype meetings well after dark. Even when I was on maternity leave, I checked my work email religiously so that I could stay up to speed. It’s on my mind constantly because my coworkers have put their trust in me, and I never want to disappoint them.

So yes, a lot of times my life looks like this…

Or this…

But I don’t take that for granted. So there! Get a job. Stop worrying about me… you lazy bum.

Summer Lovin’… Had Me a Blast

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For many families on the Hill, August is the ideal time to procreate. How do I know? Because we are going to five (yes, five) birthday parties this weekend. Birthday parties are a cornerstone of every good American family’s weekend routine, but there are usually one or two– not five.

Our overloaded schedule got me thinking about a few things:

  1. Wow, my girls are popular. It’s a good thing they take after me and not their father– that guy’s such a nerd.
  2. Thank God for Amazon Prime– gotta order those birthday gifts today!
  3. Which parents do I like best? I’ll take the girls to those kids’ parties and Dave can go  to the others (you’ve got to divide and conquer on weekends like this)
  4. Why was everyone’s kid born in May? Which led me to… they all got pregnant in August! Which led me to a long list of inappropriate names for this blog post before settling on the one you see above (Summer of ’69? Dog Days of Summer?)

August is traditionally the most popular birth month, according to Life’sLittleMysteries. Maybe I should start stocking up on gifts now; August is right around the corner, you know.

Both of my kids were born in the winter, which was poor planning for several reasons: I could never find a winter coat to properly cover my pregnant belly, sometimes there’s a blizzard happening while you’re in labor, and planning parties in the winter in DC is hard.

Lira and me (9 mos pregnant)

Of the 5 parties this weekend, three of them are outdoors. One is at Yards Park, a really cool splash park near Nationals Stadium!  And two of the others are backyard cookouts. We’ve also been to birthday parties at Lincoln Park, the National Arboretum and East Potomac Park. You want to know the best thing about those parties?  Their parents didn’t have to pay to have them there! [Read more…]

More Than a Mom

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When you’re a mom, you sometimes forget what it’s like to get male attention (husbands excluded—mine gives me more than I can handle). So when a strapping young fella reminds you that you are, in fact, still a woman and not just a mom—it’s kind of exciting.

I rode the metro to a downtown coffee shop to get some work done before a doctor’s appointment. This was the scene:

Me: (typing feverishly on my laptop)
Tie Guy: Hey, how’d you break that wrist? Bar fight?
Me: No, I broke it beating my children. (I wasn’t actually trying to shut him down but I realized afterward that I may as well have said ‘I have children and am not interested.’)
Tie Guy: (looks dejected)

It must have dawned on him that I said “kids” but not “husband” so he comes back to my table a few minutes later.

Tie Guy: So how was your Mother’s Day?
Me: It was good… nice family brunch.
Tie Guy: Where’d you go?
Me: Andrew’s Air Force Base. My husband works there.

Aaaaaannnnddd, that was the end of it.

Tie Guy: I hope your arm feels better. Have a good day.

Wasn’t that an exciting story?!

If this happens to you all the time, good for you; I don’t want to hear about it.  But if you’re a mom who occasionally has an extra cheerio in her bra and a few pacis in her purse, can I get an amen?! [Read more…]

Splish Splash, These Girls Really Need a Bath

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You know what’s fun? Rainy days in the city. It’s especially awesome when I have a cast on my broken wrist  that I can’t get wet, a 2-year-old who wants to hold the umbrella and no parking near the daycare. All of this excitement and it’s not even 9 a.m. Jealous?!

It’s days like these when I miss the burbs. I’d pull up to the house, press the garage door opener and never feel a drop of rain. I’d get my Starbucks at the drive-though window and then pull up right in front of the daycare for drop-off.  I didn’t even own an umbrella!

Fortunately, Dave offered to pick up the girls after school today. He loves the rain and doesn’t turn into a pouty-pants like I do when there’s no sunshine. I’m also cranky about the 21 day vegan cleanse I’ve started today to help get me back on track after gaining 10 lbs.

If you’re still reading, it’s proof that misery loves company.  Did I already mention that it’s Monday?

When I arrived at home after work I was greeted with shrieks and giggles, and Dave wasn’t the only one who was excited (ha!).

“We want to go on an adventure!”

Me too… only my adventure would involve my pillow and some Ambien.

“Come on, Mom!”

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