I think this is endemic of trying to balance too much OR being locked home too much in the cold winter with my three delightful yet “impish” young ladies. I find myself looking longingly at my frozen tundra of a backyard and weighing if it is worth it to wrestle the three of them into mittens/gloves (they canNOT figure out finger placement) and coats and hats for 5 minutes of fresh air…thinking how far away summer truly seems and how small a four bedroom colonial can be when filled with said “impish” girls and myself.

Regardless of the reasons I have found myself in strange states of conciousness of late.
Exhibit A: I cry at all tv. Last week I cried at “Big Fat Loser” or whatever that show is AND at the Amazing Race (which I love, but don’t really care who wins–or so I thought) AND a little, even, when the Giants won the play offs. What the heck is that??

Exhibit B: I am seriously considering if it is wise to pursue a career in bartending–a job I can go to at night, forget my worries, and just dish out the drinks. I bartended in the past, the cash is good, and I find myself thinking this isn’t only FEASIBLE it is DESIRABLE. I know in moments of rationality this sort of thinking is a bit out of whack but what if I apply in a moment of irrationality?

Exhibit C: After a weekend of having the girls all to myself, those impish delightful wonders–my husband asked if he could go to a buddy’s to watch the Giants. I said “Sure”–even though it meant more delightful alone time, just me and the girls and the fun ritual that is bedtime (now that they can’t be thrown into cribs, bedtime’s joyously stretched to hours of chasing, cajoling, threatening, and crying–usually I’m the crying one). I said “Sure” because I was hoping and longing for a single hour all to myself–without any interruptions–and I was willing to sacrifice solo bed-putting for the privilege. Which I squandered by crying over the Race and the Giants.

Exhibit D: My conversations and my thinking and my goal setting are ALL accomplished with the help of my four year old, who I feel like is the only one I have rational conversations with these days. AND, are all accomplished with a background of SHOW TUNES. Did I mention we’ve been on a Broadway roll? Peter Pan is now sharing the stereo time with the King and I and the Sound of Music. So when I’m not being called Wendy I’m being called ON to yodel or decipher the lyrics to Sixteen Going on Seventeen…

So I can’t tell if I’m losing my perspective or losing my marbles…

For a long time I tried to keep this blog very on-topic business wise about the struggles I face balancing work, kids, and the OnRamps forum. But there’s only so much you can say about it, and I lapsed into tales of general “life balancing”; if anything, I am successfully keeping up with my friends at least one sided-ly through this blog! In fact, my Christmas note this year told everyone that if they wanted to know what I was up to, to read my blog. Thus I must give the update of the past 3 weeks, entitled “How I took on too much and am totally crazy”.

This is a condensed version and does not contain any swears, timeouts, or crying—which is not the truth for the extended real life version.

Trouble began when I purchased a dollhouse kit that promised “Easy Construction”. I knew of course that this was a lie; I wisely decided not to install electric, but still figured that with the help of my mom I could bang out most of it prior to Christmas so the girls could have it. Here’s my first tip: dollhouse building is a long, laborious process involving many little parts and much glue and many STEPS as said little parts are stuck together with said glue and you wait for them to dry. And just when you’re finished you get to wallpaper and paint and stain. And when you’re finished with that you have to re-paint where the stain got and re-stain where the paint got. And then you have to re-wallpaper where the glue dribbled. My older daughter (now four, not “almost four”) was “helping” me the other day and pretending to already play with it, using small sticks instead of a family since we haven’t purchased a family yet, and she had two completely accurate observations: One, “We need a grandma for our dollhouse family”. Yep. And two, “My dollhouse mommy is going out for a drink”. Amen, sister.

But a dollhouse wasn’t enough. I also entered into a bunk bed building extravaganza. This was brought on by one twin throwing herself out of her crib and refusing to stay put—so sooner rather than later we needed to turn mattresses on the floor into bunk beds since BOTH twins were operating an all-night dance party in their room and no one was getting sleep. A few nice days over Christmas was a blessing—at least I think—it gave us the chance to do the work outside, and by “us do the work” I mean I sanded with 5 different grains of sandpaper under the master woodworker’s instructions (my husband now fancies himself “master woodworker” which really means master mess-with-sawdust-maker). If it was cold, maybe we could have bagged it. But sand we did, then we stained, then we shellaced—MW (MasterWoodworker) did help, but balked when I told him to go shellac after he got home from work one night and it was maybe 15 degrees. And we didn’t have a light in our garage. I think the crazy had set in big time, by then.

So I shellaced in our dining room and then we commenced the building. I was sure we’d finish in two hours. Here’s my next tip: building bunk beds (even when you have all the pieces cut and stained and prepared over days of labor) takes a full day and is EXHAUSTING.

What I did learn: I cannot work on additional projects with MW—he and I have different styles (mine: get it DONE, his…let’s just say it’s a bit more methodical). Two: I must not, must not, must not continue to take on any projects that last longer than one day. I lose all interest in them. Three, I better get moving on these conferences because my side-career as a handyman has ended before it began…

I posted a while ago about a great quote Maria Shriver had, about how a big part of parenting is raising kids who are self confident and comfortable. I totally agree with that though fear I have perhaps gone too far. I think I mentioned that my almost 4 year old insists on wearing NOTHING but princess dresses, at all times. Luckily, she has a grandmother who can sew like the dickens and has been churning out a full line of satin and tulle wonders, which are in non-stop rotation around our house. I am BARELY able to wrestle her into a tutu for dance class, and typically if we have to go to a store, after the inevitable argument and tantrum about having to change, she will manage to maintain some air of “princess-ity” with accessories.

Case in point: we went to buy our Christmas tree and we always go to the same place, with a bunch of 20 something guys who man-handle your tree onto your car for you…they are pretty focused on their work, and not necessarily the kind of guys that might notice little kids in crazy outfits. You’d think. But our princess in training got out of the car in a fur coat (I am to blame for this as I purchased it–for one of her sisters, but still, I did bring it into the house–faux of course) and a wedding veil. This wasn’t any wedding veil–it was one made for a halloween costume when I was young and wild and single and dressed up as “Shotgun Wedding Barbie” so it had sparkly pipe cleaner hearts attached with bright pink flowers. She strutted through the Christmas Tree yard–one of the guys said “That’s quite a veil” and I said “It’s tame by the standards of what she WANTED to wear. I later heard him telling another of the guys “There’s a little kid over there wearing a VEIL”…which made me laugh as her outfit was obviously so preposterous that it penetrated their sort of overall indifference to little kids.

And not two days later she busted out same fur coat but paired it with a pair of pink-with-diamond-accents and pink lensed SUNGLASSES to go to Target. I delude myself into thinking “Aren’t all kids doing this?” but I think NO because people stopped their busy Target shopping to turn and look at her because she looked, to be honest, like a pint-sized P-Diddy.

She is totally self confident and totally (it appears) without a “taste filter”, as the sparklier and more diva-like, the better. But I did think to myself, as I looked at her familiarly pudgy little self the other day, GOSH. I hope she can always stay so self confident. And not to get on my soap box but this goes into how I hope that the work-world changes, even a bit, so she doesn’t have to sacrifice herself one day and not feel good about the career decisions she’s making. Because when you start to feel down on yourself at work (admittedly some time away for the princess-to-be and budding Cinderallas may face a different set of challenges, ie limited job availability) it’s pretty easy to digress into feeling kind of all the way down and “un-self-confident”.

But as far as self confidence goes–DOVE is running a great campaign for women’s beauty…very inspirational. And almost-4 shows no signs of backing down in her quest to continue to delight Christmas shoppers near and far with crazy outfits…and there’s another princess dress in the mail, as we speak.

Standards have dropped to an all-time low around my house. I started out so well, saying NO tv for my kids, eating nutritiously, blah blah. And I look at myself now and I’m ashamed, ashamed I tell you, and I am fully aware that my twins are going to be going to college NOT knowing how to read wearing DIAPERS and it is all my fault.

With Emma I read to her on and on (an on) and I had the patience and tolerance for all kinds of books (even the stinkers, and for more on that you can read away…

I feel like the twins should be potty trained by now; Emma was. They LOVE all things bathroom related-toilet brushes, toilet paper, and they are quick on the scene as the “Flush Brigade” cold-cocking each other for the right to flush whenever anyone ELSE uses the toilet…

Which brings me to a sidenote. My husband in his quest for total privacy (I’ve given up which goes back to my original point of a lack of all standards) has been bellowing about our non-locking door on our master bathroom…so when he’s up there for hours on end, the girls are able to go and rattle the door. I bought a new doorknob and got all the tools together to install it and it’s “Easy”, it says so, and SURE ENOUGH the old stupid doorknob was installed one quarter inch off so even though the new one is installed properly it still won’t work. So I figure out a way to McGyver it up and got a paint stirrer, measured out a quarter inch, sawed it off, installed that, installed doorknob piece over it, and it still won’t work. And took up my time. And made me say bad words. A further proof of the declining standards.

Every single week I say I’m going to potty train the twins and then I look at them helplessly and buy another $35 worth of diapers, every single week, at the BJ’s. And potty training’s the least of it! My hard and fast “No TV” has so gone by the wayside–the standards of what’s educational now include anything on HGTV (my almost four year old can compare and contrast “Designed to Sell” and “Househunters” in well-reasoned arguments, episode by episode.) It used to be just 20 minutes of Elmo each AM, I’d fast forward through the rest of it…now that precious hour is the sweet, jealously guarded part of my day where I can enjoy a cup of coffee and read something ON MY OWN. I have been letting the almost four year old watch “Survivor” as educational because they show exotic animals–only because by Friday afternoon, when it’s prior to her nap, I’m DONE and that 45 minutes of chilling out with her is about all I can take!

And I can’t fight the dress code anymore either…she’s been wearing princess gear for a full two weeks. In public. Complete with dress-up shoes taped together with packing tape (since they broke because of frequent wear).

The one rule I’ve stuck to my guns on is nap time (because let’s be honest, we all need their nap time) and even when almost four was never, ever sleeping–she still had quiet time in her room. And now she’s back to napping. So even though it’s partially self serving I am still feeling like a good parent there.

What’s gone by the wayside at your house? And would more time make it better? (I’m not sure that’s the problem here…)

I’m always amazed at how many people are actually reading this blog. Perhaps this is because I spend my days seemingly talking to myself as my three children have become extremely listening challenged, my husband tunes out a LOT (granted I say a lot) AND I just realized that my mother has begun doing exactly what Kirsten (my friend) used to do…that is, let me talk and then say appropriate things and REALLY THEY ARE NOT LISTENING AT ALL. Kirsten even told me “I just let you go on and tune out 3/4 of what you say”. Great.

Well, for those who ARE reading the blog a quick post to say that I’m trying to plan for Spring events in Washington, DC; Boston, and NYC. I am looking for someone to help with PR in each market and I’m perfectly amenable to hiring a mom to work on her own terms in each market assuming said mom has good connections and ideas. So…let me know!!

And I’d love any thoughts on partnerships and potential sponsorships…

I spent Friday at the Babson College “Women’s Leadership Conference”–a great event celebrating some of the accomplishments of women. Of course there was the inevitable feelings of “I could be doing x, y, z” but I’m starting to just GET OVER THAT and be secure that the choices I have made are my for now choices and I have to make ‘em work. For more on my previous introspection feel free to read my earlier blogs blah blah blahing about it!

Anyway I was in one panel led by Eliza Shanley, from Women@Work, and Linda Stewart, from EPOCH–both of whom have great ideas and great business models–I hope to be able to work even more with Eliza at future Detours events, as she does recruiting for those trying to ramp back on after time off…and Linda’s company is focusing on those who have not-quite-finished a successful career. She helps to place senior level financial services professionals in project work, and writes an interesting blog about the changing dynamics of the workforce (ie, somewhat like mine but more scholarly and less issues dealing with children and their foibles)…

Linda and Eliza were speaking about the changing workforce–how, shortly, there will be a shortfall of MILLIONS of workers, which should hopefully help put more employees in charge of their own careers. The conversation turned to how to develop flexibility within your career.

There was a gentleman (one of very few) there who relayed his experience. He talked about how, as a senior manager of Cadbury Schweppes, he had two of his best marketing folks come to him, having announced their pregnancies within 3 weeks of each other. These two women asked for the ability to work part time–at this point, hadn’t been done at Schweppes. But his point was that these were his BEST–that if they went to 3 days a week, he knew for a fact that he’d still be getting 6 days a week of work out of them.

He (I wish I’d gotten his name) ended up flying to London and meeting with Sir Cadbury (Sir Schweppes??) himself and introducing the concept–to, as he put it, the chair of the “staid old British company”. The instant response was “Why would we do that?”. His answer, unequivocably, was “Because these are my best”. And they went for it…and it went wonderfully.

His advice was twofold: One, if you’re going to ask for something–you need to be great. I think that’s actually good advice–you need to be good at what you do, confident in what you do, recognized for what you do. And two–you need to have a sponsor. It’s a REALLY uphill road if you’re the only one fighting for what you want–be it flexibility, a project, anything. I know that that’s the battle I face now–it’s daunting. So I thought that was valuable, and it reminded me of what Carol Fishman Cohen said at our event–about the senior partner in the law firm who never once let anyone have any flexibility until his lawyer daughter–for whom he had paid years of tuition–had a child and herself needed some flexibility. It’s different when it’s personal–and if you can establish that wonderful sponsorship with someone, and have them advocate your greatness–not just have to go it alone–it goes along way.

More on the conference later…

How does anyone ever take a good family picture?

We had this credit won from some silent auction or something so we decided we’d clean everyone up and go take a nice family portrait. I scheduled it for 11, NOT 10, giving us plenty of time to pull it together in the morning. This left plenty of time for the twins to push each other’s buttons beyond all belief—both of them alternating between snaking the other one’s toy and running off, and throwing themselves on the floor in hysterics.

Meanwhile I was trying to reason with the almost four year old that princess crowns and too-small dresses are NOT for family photos. Arguing with her over hairstyles. Doing the hair, trying to get dressed, hair is immediately undone.

Everyone to the car. Into the seats. Start the car. And for maybe the five zillionth time, my car battery is dead. This is because certain people who are almost four continue to turn the interior lights on when I’m not looking and leave them on. GRR. And the keys also might, maybe, have been in it. (Note to all potential car thieves, I’m NEVER leaving them in the car again).

So there I am late as usual in my somewhat nice outfit and heels trying to un “Latch” 3 seats that are comfortably ensconced in my SUV (read: stuck in 6 months worth of food and dried up juiceboxes) and we’re shoving them into the backseat of “Daddy’s Noo Car”.

All they way to the studio they’re singing a happy song about being in “Daddy’s Noo Car” and even dancing to Bruce Springstein. A festival of joy. We get to the studio and…literally…the photographer asks me “Are those twins depressed”? Wouldn’t smile, wouldn’t sit. GRR. I’m trying to think of anything to make them smile (while the photographer said “Don’t antagonize them” which antagonized ME) and I’m saying Elmo! Monkey! We went to the beach! And…even, “We yell yay when we go on the potty!” WHAT?

So thank God the sitting was free because there might be a usable print of my husband, MAYBE, but that’s it and then off we go on our way home with everyone sucking lolli’s (given to them for bad behavior? By the photographer) and my husband bellowing “Don’t stick the sticks to my car—this isn’t mommy’s car” by which I mean, I assume he won’t be eating sprinkled donuts and leaving droppings from here to creation. Oh and everyone was LAUGHING and SMILING and having a blast (no cameras were in sight).

We got home and I vaccumed up 6 months of disgustingness from the seats, re-installed the carseats, and thus a one hour photo shoot turned into 3 hours of annoyingness…

Being a mom is just all glam.

My sister just returned from the Peace Corps and is adjusting to life back in the US and thinking about looking for a job. I was on the phone with her the other day, and gave her a lecture about how she has to stop stressing herself out by looking for the job that she will have for the next 40 years. It seems sort of obvious—a silly thing to say—but she called me back an hour later to say “Thanks! You’re RIGHT! I need to stop freaking out and find a job for a year or so that may lead to something!”. She roused herself from a marathon of “So You Think You Can Dance” to go surf the web and come up with some ideas and a plan. At least, till “Dancing with the Stars” came on. An unfortunate by-product of her lack of TV for 2 years is a sad addiction to insane reality shows now.

Good advice, right? That’s what I’m told all the time. As a mom, one of the things that I have to keep focused on is “nothing is forever”. What I’m doing now—not a “career” job, just a job—doesn’t have to be my job for years or even A year. So I dispensed the advice, then I sat back and thought Geez, I DO have to take that kind of advice too. It is so, so easy for me to fall in this pit of feeling trapped and then the accompanying feelings of distress, boredom, feeling like I’m wasting time, etc etc and I go into this dark place.

I WANT to do good work I care about, I want to matter and not be at a company that constantly dismisses my accomplishments because I’m not on a promotion track that they’ve made up—how to find it?? Well…maybe it’s not right now…as my good friend told me on the phone pretty soon after I dispensed my advice “GEEZ! Cut yourself some slack! Your kids are so little–maybe you don’t have to have that killer job now! Just hum along for a while and then the killer job will come–when you’re not worried about 3 under 4!”. I need this advice to be given to me repeatedly and I also find I need the validation (over and over) that I’m doing the right thing.

That’s what I put the forum together for. And at our first event, I loved hearing what Anne Weisberg from Deloitte said about how more companies are going to be going to flexible schedules, to project based work—how they’ll HAVE to because they need the people! I’m interested to hear of other people who have been successful in doing work they care about, work they like—and balancing said work with a flexible schedule.

I’d also LOVE to hear from anyone who successfully job-shares?

And my sister would love to hear from anyone who’s up-to-date on “The Biggest Loser”.

I found a great blog the other day that I’ve been peeking at here and there—part of offsprung.com. Hausfrau writes from the perspective of a mom in Northern NJ—ah, I can identify. Very funny and witty and I’d recommend it for a laugh here and there.

And in other recommendations: saw a good article in Newsweek from Maria Shriver. She has a great perspective on balance—she was one of the first to say “You can have it all. Just not at the same time”. Here’s the link to the whole article, but I especially loved this part:

“…I’m not sure enough respect and attention have been paid along the way to some of the simple acts traditionally associated with being a mother–the nurturing, the gentleness, the listening and the comforting. I think bringing into this world a child who feels whole, who feels loved, who feels safe and who feels centered is the most powerful act of all. If you get it right, wow! There’s nothing better.”

I KNOW in my head and by watching them that my kids are loved and are confident in that love. So I guess if that’s all I can accomplish now it’s a good thing to be proud of.

Ever go through times when it seems everyone lets you down? Everyone you count on, everyone you quasi-count on?

Tonight, after much planning, I was all set to go out for my anniversary. We’d planned to go to a day spa for a massage and a facial (he and I, respectively)…so scrumptious and wonderful, since I haven’t had a facial and been pampered in so long.

In fact–when I was I pregnant with first and the double second–I had a sweet deal that I could get facials once a month. I know if I went now, it would be deserved and fine but I can never set aside the time, my old favorite spa in Hoboken closed, my babysitter time covers my “office time”…blah blah blah…so now it’s been so long that I’ve been considering another pregnancy IF ONLY for the facials.

Anywho, all set for it, facial and then a nice dinner and then even being home early, watching tv, cosy reading a book, aaah. And, to top it all off, my former nanny was coming to sit–so didn’t have to worry about the kids AND they were so super excited to see her.

At 5 as we got ready to go through my head flitted “I wonder if [nanny] remembers?”. I had after all set this up two weeks ago. Wait for it…

No she didn’t. We called at quarter past, she’d forgotten, I called the spa (crying) and luckily they waived their 48 hour cancellation policy for ME–hubby raced off for massage while I got to spend MORE time with the kids. We cleaned and tidied and then he called from the spa…we went off to meet him for dinner.

So we’re at dinner–all of us–and I’m thinking I LOVE these kids. I do. It’s not their fault it’s my anniversary and I wanted a night of quiet and tranquil and no shouting (ie, when we told one twin to use her whisper voice at the restaurant, and she looked at us, SCREAMED “AAH” LOUDER THAN EVER BEFORE IN HER LIFE, and the whole restaurant NO JOKE quieted for a moment till some guy turned and jokingly yelled “I CAN’T HEAR YOU” at her, difusing tension, sort of–well, that’s the kind of “no shouting” I was aiming for). Anyway, we’re all together, and it’s family, and isn’t that what it’s all about? Or is it about a party in the next room so our dinner takes over an hour to get to us? Why yes, of course that’s what happens.

It is what it is, I thought. Just gotta let it go and roll with it. I can’t get wrapped up in what would have been a great relaxing night. This is nice too.

The girls were as good as could be, the restaurant (since it was late!!) cleared out so it was only us, to annoy ourselves, we ate, we came home, we got ‘em up to bed an hour late sans bath night two (stinkers)–and as I was showing Emma one of her Christmas books that she was excited to read (she’s like a department store, gearing up 3 months early) she says “I like you like this, not all yelling.”

So BAM. I am feeling so let down by so many people I know. And I guess it all goes back to making sure I don’t let her down.

And that’s why for me motherhood is “fitting in work and life where you can” like the premise of this blog says. And maybe if I can just work on not letting her down, maybe that’s enough.

Though I wouldn’t mind a facial.