Lovefest 2012

RJ is in the middle of Lovefest 2012. Periodically, he stops whatever he's doing and tells me, "Mom, I love you." And then he's off again. Sometimes he snuggles up to me just to tell me I'm pretty or that he likes my hair. He might be Eddie Haskell. Or he might be really digging mommy being around a lot these days. I used to be in the office at least 50 hours a week. In heels. And a power suit. 

I used to see women in restaurants with greasy pony tails, chipped nails, spotted t-shirts, and (gasp!) elastic waist pants, and I judged. I judged a lot.  How hard is it to take off the polish and put on a clean shirt?

Awfully  hard some days. 

Now, I find myself being a part time lady lawyer. I'm not comfortable with it. My job feels like an old coat that doesn't quite fit right anymore. Too tight in the sleeves and maybe if I just tug on the collar a little bit and adjust the hem "just so," I can make it fit again.   I thought I would have time organize my recipes and learn to sew. My recipes are still stuck together in a drawer (or on my iPhone because the iPad has a dead battery. Sigh.).  The sewing machine is in the garage. (Double sigh). 

I don't like the marathon that my days have become: change diapers, make cereal, chase crawler, snuggle non-crawler, find "Curious George," find clean underpants, find dirty peed on underpants, start laundry, comb hair, swim lessons, change into work clothes, wash parts to milking machine, pack lunch, drive downtown, and holy crap it's only 9:30. 

Notice something? There's no shower in that routine. Not most days. I used to be the girl with the pink patent leather shoes and the matching handbag. Yesterday, I caught a glimpse of myself in the hotel window downtown. Hair? Pony tail. Nails? Used to be pink. Shirt? The tiniest tiniest Koolaid stain on the sash. But it was still there.  Skirt? Zip closure thank you very much. 

Handbag? From Target. Not as in purchased from their super cute line of summer handbags. As in white plastic with adorable little red targets on it. Because my super cute little patent leather bags are packed, my super cute leather tote bag was holding my super dirty dry cleaning, and I was in a super hurry to get away from my super loud four year old. Functional? Of course. Worthy of judgment-y stares from cute young things in power suits? (summer associates of the world, I'm looking at you in your fabulous suits and heels). Absolutely. 

I started out my part time routine dedicated to parenting perfection. If I'm not billing time, then I'm building quality time with my kids. That's the way it's going to be. And that's the way it has been. Until now. 

Something's got to change. And perhaps it isn't only my job that doesn't quite fit. For the first few months of this new gig, I spent every non-working moment with my kids. I played trains with RJ and let GiGi nurse herself into blissful oblivion.  And every night, I go to bed angry, irritable, and exhausted wishing for just two more hours to write or play my violin or do something (anything) that used to be mine and mine alone.   

If this part time thing is going to work, I have to overcome the guilt of not spending every non-work moment with my children. Because, spending every single minute of the day with either (1) a law book and computer or (2) one child who has an inexplicable need to touch me all the time and one child who has an inexplicable need for num-num all the time will make me nuts. 

Nothing changes with inaction. So, I dove right in. Instead of figuring out a weekly menu plan or trying to read a deposition, I painted my nails while RJ had swim lessons. (Red. Sally Hanson Salon Manicure in a Bottle. I'll let you know it works out.). And then, then I took the real plunge. I packed a gym bag. With something other than GiGi's Huggies and extra jars of baby food. (Why is it that a pink Nike bag just begs to be put to work as a diaper bag?)

I used to swim miles a day. Really. MILES. Today, I swam 600 yards. And I am exhausted. And sore. And kind of proud. Because, for this part time mommy lawyer thing to work, I've got to make time for me. The coat fit a little better this evening. And I found a few minutes to write too. 

So today begins a new routine. Except for the laundry. And the snuggles. Because RJ is in the middle of Lovefest 2012, and who am I to refuse a handsome little man's overtures to snuggle and tell me I'm pretty? 

(And to my working mommy friends, find a way to be kind to yourself. It matters. It makes a difference.).