Sweet Potatoes, Jeggings, and Part Time

I made a tough decision recently. I agonized. I antagonized. I debated. I cried. I went part time at my job. Mommy track. A hard left turn off the beaten (and beating) path of an associate. I've been practicing law for about eight years. It wasn't an easy choice. But difficult choices are made easier by setting and remembering priorities. Mine are family, career, everything else. I thought going part time would make me a better mom. I would suddenly have time to make cupcakes, sculpt cheese pumpkins for class parties, and finally get the dregs of the laundry hamper washed and put away.

Part time means I have time for breakfast with my babies and an extra half hour every morning for impromptu story time. Some mornings I even have time to curl my hair. My evenings are no longer a sprint from the back door to the stove to the dinner table to the bath tub to the bed. Instead, I sit on the sofa with my babies. I feed GiGi and watch "Curious George" with RJ. (I currently have the episode where George flies on the space shuttle committed to memory--I used to have section 362 of the bankruptcy code committed to memory).

Part time means that every once in a while I get to take RJ to an indoor playground myself instead of just seeing pictures of the trip taken by our nanny.  Last Friday, we took just such a trip. RJ was tickled. I was tickled. GiGi was entertained and entertaining. She is a real life baby doll and is, I have learned, completely irresistible to little girls (and big girls too). They all want to pinch her cheeks and rub her fuzzy head. It was an awesome day.

After almost four years, I thought I had this mom thing down. Part time. Plenty of time to spend with my babies. GiGi is eating sweet potatoes and sweet peas now (and grabbing my spoon hand with her chunky paws to drag the spoon to her mouth faster).  RJ has finally (Finally) beaten the preschool crud.

I should know better.

Last Friday was awesome. And someday, I will remember only the air hockey game that RJ and I played for an hour and the paintings he made for my office. Today, however, as I pour out the pitcher of Oxyclean, I remember one thing: sweet potatoes.

GiGi is a big girl. A chunkerella. Thunder thighs (just the way I want them to be). She wore jeggings on Friday. With an adorable white tunic top. (Of course it was white).  GiGi likes (loves) sweet potatoes. She eats a lot of them. And when you eat....well....at some point, it's going to come out. Chunkerella filled her Huggie. She filled her jeggings and her tunic top. She filled her car seat. I had two wipes. Two.

RJ and I found ourselves in the stall of a public bathroom (ick). The conversation went like this:

Me:  "RJ, get mommy some toilet paper."

Me:  "RJ,  mommy needs more than one square."

Me:  "RJ, sweetheart, don't separate each square, just bring mommy a handful."

Me:  "RJ, don't touch the wall."

Me:  "RJ, stop rubbing your hands on the potty."

RJ:  "Why?"

I took a picture of the incident. But I think it's too yuck to post.

I should have known better. I thought I was getting the hang of this mom thing. I had plenty of time to plan, so I can't use that excuse anymore.

And just when I want to remember an air hockey game and paintings, I remember that for lunch, I fed my son a turkey stick, a fruit roll up, and Chicken 'n' a Bisket (not to be confused with chicken on  a biscuit--which would actually be quite tasty and reasonable--Chicken 'n a Bisket). Nutritious. As RJ would say, "outstanding."

Part time does not mean that I am a better mom.  I haven't suddenly gained all the mommy skills I thought I was lacking due to the hours I spent at the office. But, someday, I will remember air hockey, paintings and afternoons with Curious George. And I think (I hope), it will be worth it.