July 16, 2008

And With That, She’s Gone

I’m once again sitting in an airport, blogging.

I do that a lot these days.

Chatting with some MOMocrats this week, I realized the Democratic National Convention starts August 25th. The Republican National Convention starts September 1st.

So what? Right?

Kindergarten starts August 13th.

That means just a few weeks after my baby boy starts the very daunting task of navigating elementary school- his Mom is skipping town for two weeks.

Sure, I’ll be home for a weekend in the middle there somewhere…but mostly I will be entrenched in politics.

This is weighing on me. Heavily.

How will it affect his adjustment to a new school and environment? Will having his grandparents stay with us help? Hurt?

Am I the worst mother EVER for going?

Then, like a choir of angels, the MOMocrat women chimed in:

“Take a deep breath. You’re a great mom, your kids are adorable, and you are doing a terrific job of keeping it all in balance (even if it doesn’t feel that way).”

“I hear you Erin. Hang in there.

It’s why I keep asking about the self interest versus greater good interest.

The first day of the DNCC is the first day of school here. And even though it’s not a first for my first grader, we might be switching preschools for my younger one (or back or not or holy crap wtf).

NOBODY has the ideal. The key is to do the best we can with the lives we have and from here it seems like you are def. doing that. hang in there.”

“Erin, I am totally serious about this– what you are doing, covering the elections for BlogHer and MOMocrats– this is making the world a better place for ALL children. You are doing this stuff for your children. And one day they will know it and thank you for it.”

I didn’t ask if I could publish these, so I’m leaving their names off. But…they know who they are.

And I’m going to print these words and tape them to my laptop.

As I get situated in San Francisco for BlogHer ‘08, I’ll be very busy- calling home when I can to kids who may or may not feel like talking. As I talk with Liz Mair, Congresswoman Allyson Schwartz, and all the wonderful women I know…I’m going to remember these words.

Simply…thank you.

February 27, 2008

Home Sweet Ho…wait, maybe the airport was better

After a trip wrought with delay after delay I was very excited to see my children. As I walked in the door to pick them up after a very long day of travel, they greeted me with a million kisses and gifts.

Then they woke me up at 645am and have yet to move more than an inch from my side. Crawling on me, climbing on me, petting me, snuggling with me, whining at me, whining near me, moving only to grab a toy and then to run right back to re-glue themselves to a thigh or an arm.

I peed with a child on my lap and am typing right now one-handed, as my other hand is being held captive by a small person who can’t seem to pronounce her “L’s” very well.

My son used the back of my shirt as a leash as I walked to get the mail. My daughter won’t go get her stuffed dog from the other room unless I carry her there and back.

The house went from clean to a total disaster in the first half of the day and this afternoon we are all still in our pj’s. I’m trying to make it to the park before tonight’s debate and another “mom’s butt on couch for 3 hours” session but the phone keeps ringing.

While the airport was crowded and loud, much like my house, at least the other passengers weren’t climbing on me and I could get some work done.

I’m also totally annoyed because I have about 20 pages left in The Other Boleyn Girl as my flight landed 20 pages too soon and despite STILL being in my PJ’s today I can’t seem to find the time or arms to finish.

Maybe I can carry the girl to the bathroom with me, have her grab the book-let the boy hold my shirt on the way and sit on my feet as I pee and read out loud. Then everyone is happy.

Or I can just plan another business trip.

June 11, 2007

Just hoping the babysitter isn’t dead in a ditch

I hired a Nanny on Friday. I checked her out, ran the reports, called the references and HIRED a nanny to watch my lovely and always well behaved children 3 days a week while I work only a few rooms away.

The nanny (or babysitter for you who find the N word snobby) was to start the job today at 1030am.  It’s now nearly midnight and she’s still not here. She has yet to show. Or call. Or email. Or send a carrier pigeon.

The best I can do is really hope she’s not dead in a ditch or tending to some HORRIBLE tragedy that would preclude her from calling me, her employer. At worst, she’s a total flake and after going through a professional service she was the BEST I could come up with.

I give.

The kids and I are leaving for Tampa on Thursday where their Nana and Gramps will adore and spoil them while I work.

More to come.

Oh, and…who’s taking me out for drinks in Tampa???

February 11, 2007

Build A Bastard

Have I mentioned lately how amazing my husband is? Well, in case I haven’t…let me just say the man is a wonder.

Since my surgery he’s been SUPERwonder Dad. From doing everything around the house to taking the kids everwhere from hair cuts to birthday parties.

Which leads me to today…and the Build A Bear Birthday Blowout.

I’m normally not an evil bitch, but every time my husband comes home from an outing with the children, I get all frazzled because they have such a good time with no problems.

What do you mean Count Waffles didn’t have a melt down in the produce section?

Really, Princess Peanut didn’t throw the red ball at you because she wanted the blue ball?

It drives me insane. They always seem to be bizzaro kids for him.

Except for today. When the Build A Bear Birthday Blowout had my sweet Kaiser twitching when they walked in the door. It wasn’t so much that the kids were bad, it was just one of those parenting situations where you wish you had never left the house.

The Build A Bear store was the size of a small bathroom stall. It was the Sunday before Valentine’s Day. One of our kids could care less he was there, and the other had no clue what she was supposed to be doing. Cue Chaos.

My defeated and disheveled husband arrived home with two large bear boxes and 40 more gray hairs. He sat in front of me and talked quickly about the too small store and the throngs of people and the clothing and the kids and the holding of the bears and the holding of the kids and the picking out of the outfits for the bears and how the Princess wouldn’t allow the Bear to be dressed and the Count wouldn’t pick a name and he couldn’t carry the boxes and the bears had to be out of the boxes to carry home but the kids wouldn’t carry them, they just insisted they were not boxed.

This went on. And on. And on. He talked and talked and shook his head and put his hands in the air.

It’s not that I was happy, per say. Just relieved it finally had happened to him. Now we can really share some war stories.