Work It: a blog for Working Moms

PC SUV

By Coletta

In this increasingly PC climate I have to admit that I have a raging prejudice.  I hate--I mean DESPISE women who drive SUV's.

Last week I got rear-ended at a stop light. The damage to my car was very minimal (a nick the size of a pencil eraser). But I'm very ticked off. The vehicle that hit me was a SUV (I drive a Prius) and it was driven by a woman (probably a working mom) and when she (insert derogatory term here) hit me she didn't even get out of her car to see if I/my car/her car was alright.

Now ladies...let's be real. We spend great amounts of energy trying to get back in to our pre-maternity clothes, we complain endlessly about the 1/2 size our feet grew after child birth, we won't even try on the shirt that's one size too big in the department store but we are driving these huge SUV's and minivans that are three sizes too big for us. Yes, I include myself in the 'we'. My other car is a Honda Pilot.  And yes, I have had an accident in it - two accidents in one week in fact.  I had not one accident in my Honda Civic that I drove for 7 years.  C'mon ladies, let's admit it! SUV's are too big for us, we can't drive them as well as other cars. We can't park them in those skinny parking spaces at Panera Bread, we can't tell if there's a small car in the highway lane to the left of us when we merge lanes, and even if we have one of those fancy back-up cameras, we still can't see the small child walking to their car behind us in the pre-school parking lot. Do you know HOW we know these cars are too big for us?  Because our husbands don't let us drive them on the weekends to family outings. And when they do, our husbands cringe while we're changing lanes and suggest that we go in to the zoo first with the kids while they park the car. Before you cry equal rights to me--I will say that I believe that smaller men should be discouraged from driving very large trucks as well.

A motorcycle driver needs a special license to drive his vehicle, a truck driver needs special training to drive a Mack truck and here we are a nation of women driving cars meant for men and claiming that it's necessary because we have so much stuff.  I call bull! I'm a mom, the strollers fit in the back of the Prius along with groceries, a computer keyboard, a tricycle and a birdhouse (in case you were wondering)!  Gas is expensive people, filling up a Navigator must cost a hundred bucks. So why  are we paying more money to tote our precious children in a car that we can't drive correctly because they weren't built for us? Another excuse, we have to have a vehicle that gives us the ablility to drive our children's friends around. The parents of your child's friends have seen you park at soccer practice and TRUST ME, they don't want you to drive their kid anywhere! Final excuse to defend SUVs if the driver DOES have an accident, she is 'safer' if she is in a big cushy SUV. Well you've got me there. You are absolutely right you've just crashed the giant vehicle, that you couldn't physically turn the steering wheel of without electrical engineering, into another person...gee..I'm so relieved that YOU are safe.  I just wonder if you would have had the accident at all in a normal sized vehicle.

Alright. 
I've said my peace. I feel better. 

I understand that someone, maybe many, will disagree with me (trucks ROCK man, the peeing Calvin sticker lives on). Hopefully someone else will stop and think, realize that a car is like a bathing suit...it has to fit you and it can be bad news for you; embarrass your kids and frighten strangers, if it doesn't!

Bless This Mess

by Jenny

I’m crying uncle! I have to call in reinforcements. I can’t keep up. I have two children who have taken over my life and the things I own in my life — such as my house.

I try. I really do. I pick up, I put away, I wipe down, I wash, I pick up, I put away, I fold, I pick up, I put away. And on and on. Right?

Before you have kids, you only have one or two people’s crap to clean up. One person being you and the other your lovable, thoughtful and wonderful husband who can’t seem to figure out that the dishes don’t wash themselves.

That was the case for me anyway. I kept up with my housecleaning for the most part. There was the one time I went on strike just to show my husband what I did that he didn’t notice. How I vacuumed, swept, dusted, did laundry, cleaned bathrooms, cooked, did dishes and so much more. Not begrudgingly because I was doing it for me, too. But sometimes you just want to make sure you’re appreciated.

The strike was highly effective. My work is highly appreciated and now all I have to do is remind him of the days of the strike, and there is no argument about what needs to get done.

But it’s now too much for both of us. With two kids, busy jobs and a desire for some semblance of a social life, we just don’t have the time to keep up with the cleaning like we need to. And we now have two more people’s things to pick up and put away and clean and wash and so on.

So I’ve called in a maid.

I hope she can help. I’m hoping she can give me back my weekends or the one day I have with my girls by myself. I would much rather lay around all day and read books with them, play in the backyard, teach my 3-year-old how to write her letters, than clean up my bathroom and vacuum.

Who wouldn’t? OK, sometimes I do enjoy the escape. But not enough to keep it up!

How do you keep your house clean? Or do you?

The Race Of My Life

by Terry

Two weeks ago I ran in the Walt Disney World Half Marathon. This was an incredible feat for me because of the fact that about 18 months ago I could barely run to my mailbox. I just had a baby 6 months before that and with 3 other kids and a full time job, I found it very difficult to get back into shape to shed those pre-pregnancy pounds. I was feeling rather depressed and down on myself about it because I had just turned 40 and knew that as I got older shedding the weight would get increasingly difficult.

Fortunately, I had just received a small bonus at work and was given the green light by my better half to spend the money on a personal trainer at my local gym. It turns out that this was one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life. After 4 months of this trainer whipping me into shape (and believe me when I say that she took no prisoners) I lost the pounds and a few dress sizes and thensome. But better than that was the overall improvement to my health. I was suddenly able to run for an hour on the treadmill. I could run up several flights of stairs without a single sweat. I felt more energetic. I was ready to take on a new challenge. Hence, I decided to run a 5K. I did that after a few months of running and training myself. My goal eventually graduated from running 5Ks to running in a much bigger race...a half marathon.

Make no mistake. 13.1 miles is a long stretch and not an easy task. No matter your methods it is important to train properly for it. There are many online programs you can access or you can go to your local running club for help. I did it on my own for many personal reasons and after 4 months of training, I was ready to go on January 12, 2008.

After waking up at 3 am and hanging around the Epcot Center parking lot for a few hours, the race was underway and after running for nearly 3 hours I crossed the finish line. I have to describe that moment as one of the top 10 best moments of my life so far. Admittedly, I cried hard. I think the race workers thought I was hurt but it was a very emotional time for me and I explained that it was total joy. 

I don't like to brag about my achievements unless I feel that they will help inspire someone to accomplish a goal. Which is what brought me to writing this post. I felt compelled to tell my story so that anyone and everyone could see that a normal, working mom to 4 kids who is over 40 can definitely achieve a fantastic dream. You can too.

What is your dream and how are you going to accomplish it?

I Miss Shopping

by Jenny

I really do, I miss shopping. Before I had kids I didn’t realize how much of a shopper I was.

You know how they say when you become a mom, you also learn how to eat as if you were a vacuum? Fast, on high speed and without chewing? You just suck it right up. You eat as if you might never get another chance because that’s how it feels. You have to fit bites in between your toddler’s questions, cutting food, feeding the baby and so on.

Well, I’ve also noticed I’ve learned how to shop like I’m on borrowed time as well. I speed through sale racks. I don’t linger down aisles filled with non-necessities, where before I could spend hours. I go as if I’m on a mission – whether it’s to the big box discount store, the grocery store or the mall. Usually I have the kids so I have to be fast before one of them loses all control. And if I don’t have the kids, I feel guilty for even taking a luxurious second to myself. Sometimes I steal away from work, but only so much shopping can get done in the equivalent of a lunch hour.

So on this road of becoming a new person, a shadow of my former self, a mom, I’m missing that time where I could test makeup, try on clothes and actually buy a pair of shoes that weren’t for comfort but for style.

Yes, I can do it occasionally, but I miss doing it whenever I want. And online shopping just doesn’t cut it. It’s missing the tangible, sensory aspect. In fact, this whole issue hit me when I was shopping on Sephora.com. I’m sorry, but I just can’t shop for new makeup online. I have to see those colors in person and on my skin. I want to smell those tubes of lipstick and lip gloss. I have to feel the weight of the compacts in my hands to know which one suits me. See, I told you I miss shopping.

I wish I could say the good news is I’m saving a ton of money nowadays. But I manage to find ways to spend it. I guess that’s one reason to work in this crazy life — to spend the money I make!

My other (work) kids...

By Jennifer

I told my husband the other night that I've gotten to a point where I feel old enough that the young people who work for me are like my kids, my work kids. The truth is, since I first had an intern report to me at the ripe old age of 24, I've felt this way about the various college interns and young reporters who have worked with me or for me. I want them to succeed. I want them to feel like what they contribute matter, even if it's helping to make phone calls or send out surveys. When any one of them wants me to mentor or help them, guide or bounce ideas with them--the answer is always yes. Several of my work kids have worked for me at more than one employer. And one has even helped me get a job! They've become people I care about, people who share things with me that stretch beyond career goals and good assignments. Many have been to my house for dinner. I champion them and I do what I can to keep them on track.


I've had some really rotten bosses and a big part of the way I deal with those under me is an effort to be everything those terrible bosses are not. I try to be the boss I always wanted. Including the painful honesty part. Now that I am a mom, I realize it's not all about being a better boss than the bosses I have had. It's also about making a connection with the people down the ladder from me. It's about actually caring what happens to people. And yes, maybe mothering them a little. It's also about being a role model (particularly for the females among the group who hope to be moms one day and still juggle their careers). I've been told two or three times that I do too much for the people that work for me. But building a career is hard work. If I can help, I feel like I should. It's a lot more gratifying than planning next year's editorial calendar. And, after all, they're my kids.

How about you? Are there younger employees you've taken under your wing, who you feel responsible for? Why do you do it?

Fantasy Jobs

by JenMarie

As much as I love my job, I’ve always had ideas about those dream jobs that would be so much fun. At least I think they would be. I’m not talking about a real job, this is more of a fantasy scenario, not taking into account proper training or other not-so-fun tasks that might be associated with the job in question. These are the jobs that seem like they would be so much fun.

My three fantasy jobs are (in no particular order):

• Person who names the OPI brand nail polish colors. With names like ‘Nice Color, eh?’, ‘OH…to be 25 again’ and ‘Who comes up with these names?’ how could you NOT want to have this job!?  I won’t hold it against them that they discontinued my favorite color ‘Route Beer Float’
• Television Reviewer/Critic – Yes, I watch WAY too much television and I am going to blame that on my DVR and its ability to let me watch when I’m ready! I will watch just about anything and always have an opinion on it. When I used to work in an office, I was known as the person to go to if you wanted to know about a new show and whether it was worth checking out.
• Cake Designer - one of my hobbies is decorating cakes, particularly birthday cakes. I would love designing both in the cake itself and the decorations to adorn it. I am sure the stress of making the perfect cake all the time would take away any fun involved but from the outside, I would really enjoy being a part of the happiness of others. 

So, I have to ask, if you could pick three fantasy jobs, what would they be?  Would you choose something totally fun (in your eyes) or something that has great meaning and significance? 

Potter Mania

by Laura

Ok, I’ll admit it: I’m a Harry Potter freak. I was one of the hundreds (if not thousands) of people stationed at our local Barnes & Noble, in full costume, waiting for the book to be released Friday night.

If you must know, I was Professor McGonagall. I had a full length black robe and square reading glasses, and my hair up in a bun. My friend Tammy was there too, dressed as Tonks, with a violently pink wig that could be seen a mile away. I dressed my son as Harry, and the baby was Hedwig. I spent two weeks working on our costumes. Yes, I made them myself. For someone who had never made a garment in her life, they turned out pretty darn good, if I say so myself.

I’m probably worst than most fans, since I was not actually waiting for the book. I knew I couldn’t stay until midnight, because of the kids, so I pre-ordered the book online to be delivered on Saturday. But, how could I miss the party?? This is the last book, the end of an era. Yes, there are still two movies to see, but it’s not the same. This is THE BOOK. We get to find out if Harry lives (don't tell me!).

So, Friday night rolls around, and off we go. First, we meet Tammy for dinner, dressed in our costumes. Of course, we were the talk of the restaurant. My husband Rob was going to eat with us, but he got there late. So he went with us to B&N. Sophia would not wear her costume at the store. Gabriel said that she was embarrassed to be seen that way. We played games, took pictures, and participated in the costume contests. By the time we left, B&N was packed with people, and more were coming in. We didn’t win any prizes for our costumes, but we had a good time. Even Rob.

Here I am waiting for the UPS guy to show up at my doorstep, and bring the precious cargo. Then to wrestle with the kids, so I can read in peace (yeah right!).

And for all of those people out there that made fun of us, I have three words: Star. Trek. Convention.

Are you a Harry Potter fan? Are you reading/have you finished the final book? Don't give away any spoilers! But let us know if you're caught up in the excitement!

Two jobs, a dog, a child--and ADD

by Jennifer

Oh boy... a week or so ago I wrote about those times when it all just feels like too much. What I didn't reveal then is that after years of believing my husband had a serious case of ADD, I'd finally approached him about it in early May. He was receptive to the idea, did his own research on the subject, told me thought he should be evaluated... and then a downward spiral that led to my last post. I had literally had it up to my eyeballs--and beyond--and my husband saw the click... you know the one... the flip of that internal switch where you've officially checked out. It comes right after the very last, last straw. It's the flip of the switch that isn't always reversed. It was then, when I was seriously contemplating walking out the door--and he saw that it wasn't a threat--that he asked for my help and got moving on the ADD evaluation.

What I didn't know until then: he was starting to have trouble focusing at work, not just  at home. At work, he's always been able to hyper-focus and hone in on details so clearly that he has become a star player. I discovered, too, that for work stuff, to keep on track, he keeps extremely detailed organizational reminders in a small notebook. At home, though, he is  all over the place. There's no home notebook. He gets up and walk around while I am speaking to him, doesn't concentrate on much (except baseball games), is quick to get frustrated and--the piece that finally drove me to broach the subject--is not very able to tune in to our son. I hear our son call out "daddy" four or five times--and my husband is a foot away (seriously) and it doesn't register. Or, our son will be looking through books, trying to figure out what things are and my husband cannot not sit for even a minute (honestly) to tell him the names of the animals before he moves to another toy and tries to lure our son over. I rarely get the feeling that he's "present." These are just some examples.

So, this week, my husband went to his not-covered-by-insurance $375 ADD expert evaluation. And as anyone who knows him more than casually would have already guessed--he scores fairly high to off-the-charts on the ADD screening questions. Yes, he has ADD. And now he also has a prescription in hand. I know people feel strongly about medication--some pro and some con--but I have to be honest, I've hung my hopes on the pills working enough for my husband to be present at home.

Here's why: First off, for our son's sake. My husband is very loving and he's a caring father, but even he knows that he's out of tune with our son. I want to see their relationship change. The rest of my reasons are very selfish. For one, my husband gets social cues at work, but at home and with his family, he's totally clueless (a big ADD symptom, I've learned). Body language? He can't read it well. Crying wife? I might just be missing my grandmother, but he doesn't tune in and think, "Oh, she needs a hug" and yet, he is a loving person. He interrupts, floats into conversations he wasn't really listening to... What's more, I do everything in our family (except vacuuming--leave it to me and it won't get done--and laundry--my husband has this thing about separating clothes and I could care less, so he does it). Bills? I make sure they are paid. Child care? I take care of all the arrangements and conversations. Going on a trip? I plan everything, pack everything, arrange everything, checklist everything (including my husband's list), load the car, keep track of the money, etc. Dog needs medicine refilled or more food? My husband doles out the medicine in the morning. If I forgot to check on how much was left, it might be two weeks before he tells me the pill bottle is empty. I've got to work late and our son needs to eat? If I don't leave instructions on what to do, they eat cheese and deli meat.

Decisions to be made on where to go, what to do and how to get there? Maintenance in the apartment? Furniture to put together? Doctor's appointments to make?  EVERYTHING? I do it all. It's not that my husband won't (although I did believe that for a long time), it's that he can't. He literally cannot plan a trip or deal with small details like bill-paying. So I do most of what needs to be done to keep our life in order. Oh, and I also work a full-time job that, many weeks, requires more hours  than my husband's does.

I get really annoyed. No, I get really, really, really annoyed. It's like I have two kids, plus a job, plus, plus, plus, plus. So, very selfishly, I want the medicine (and the accompanying coping techniques the book and doctor offer up) to work. And fast. I'm kinda tired of doing it all. I want to be supportive. But I want to be less responsible, too. I long imagined that my husband did more around the house and family-wise than a lot of husbands. But I realized that I've sugar-coated it. He does what he can, and without being able to focus, it's haphazard, half-done and inconsistent. Somehow, I've compensated for it and appreciated the effort more than I should have. But it wasn't until the flip switched that my eyes opened and I saw it all clearly. (Disclaimer: since most of this note is about the negatives, I feel I must tell you that he's not like this all the time... and my husband is one of the most caring people I know... it's at odds with the ADD traits.)

I'm curious to know if any of you have a spouse with ADD--or if you have ADD yourself. How do you cope? How do you maintain a supportive role AND keep from feeling annoyed and resentful about being the do-it-all person in your family?  How do you help your spouse (or yourself) connect better with your children?

Parenting with brutal honesty: Talking about AIDS

by Marijean

It all started because we were listening to a Queen CD while painting the deck. The girl, very nearly 11- years-old, wanted to know what happened to the band.

"The lead singer, Freddy Mercury, died," I said.

"How did he die?" she asked.

"He had AIDS," I said. I could have left it there, but oh no, that's not my style at all. I am more and more, a TMI parent.

Thus began the "History of AIDS" conversation. As we painted, she asked questions and I narrated the history of a virus that appeared in my consciousness as early as 1981, when I was 11-years-old -- the very age she will be in just a few weeks. I told her how, in 1985 I did a report on AIDS for school, handing in a paper that explained the details of the transmission of the virus, to a nun in my very Catholic, all-girls' high school. I wonder still how I had the nerve, but then, as now, I was fascinated by the virus, it's impact both socially and medically.

The girl interjected with "that's very interesting," throughout the conversation. She even turned down the CD so she could focus on the topic more closely. That was a first. I learned that the history of AIDS carries so many great messages; about the importance of not discriminating against others (nod to Tom Hanks for Philadelphia), the importance of understanding and practicing safe sex, infectious diseases and the global impact, how fear motivates people in ways that are counterproductive and of course, the importance of getting to know someone thoroughly and over time before entering into a sexual relationship. "I'm waiting till I get married!" she said.

"Aren't there some diseases that are extinct, now? Couldn't that happen with AIDS?" she asked. I explained that yes, that could happen, if a cure or an immunization is found, but it would still take time and education, particularly in countries where healthcare and resources are so limited. We talked about the impact HIV has had on Africa, in particular, the difference between HIV positive patients and people who have full-blown AIDS and the impact the "cocktail" has had, good and bad as it helps patients live longer and with reduced symptoms, but reduced awareness of the danger of the virus, lowering its importance in the collective consciousness.

Because she's a kid, I told her about Ryan White and how he and his family helped Americans understand the virus, and protected the rights of those suffering from the disease and discrimination simultaneously. I told her about all his celebrity friends like Michael Jackson and Elton John. She wondered if they were more interested in becoming more famous by befriending a sick child. I told her I thought their hearts were in the right place, and that White and his family needed celebrity-level attention to get their message out. It  was that hard to make people understand.

So we painted away, sharing our thoughts and opinions about a virus that has had an impact on the world for nearly thirty years now, something even our children should know and understand.

Resources for AIDS and HIV education:

• AIDS Education and Training Centers
• AVERT
• Center for AIDS

Working moms in the third world

by Penny

I just came back from a two-week trip to Bolivia. It was a work trip, and required me to be completely detached from the rest of the world for most of that time. That meant no TV, no phone, no computer, no electricity, no showers, no nothing. This was not this first time I have been so far removed from home and family since I became a mom, but it was by far the most difficult time I’ve had being away. The worst part was the nightmares…and not being able to call home to be sure they were just dreams. I was so relieved upon my return a place with a computer and internet access, to find ordinary, nonchalant messages from my husband. Whew! Nothing had happened and I could sleep again!

But I’m not writing this about traveling abroad and missing my husband and son. We all, as working moms, have to deal with that at some point. Instead, I’d like to reflect on the bigger picture.

It’s easy for us living here in the ‘first world’ to point fingers and tout how our method of child-rearing is far-and-above better than someone else’s because we (insert one):

1) choose to continue to work

2) choose to be stay-at-home parents

3) choose to home school

4) choose to have a nanny

5) choose to utilize a local daycare

6) choose to divorce our spouses, in the interest of our children

7) choose to remain married, in the interest of our children

8) etc, etc.

It goes on and on.

It only takes one day in a third world country, like Bolivia, to realize how petty these “Mommy Wars” really are. Even in the most prosperous of Bolivian cities, like La Paz or Potosi, children work with their mothers, either passively riding on Mommy’s back, or actively trying to make some money polishing shoes. There is no choice for the mother or the child. You work to survive. You do what you have to do.

Where’s the Daddy? He’s working too, sometimes being away from his family for days or weeks. Yet, these are some of the most beautiful and happy people I have ever met. Mothers and their babies are stunning (and always grateful for a ride if it’s offered). The older children – the ones who go to school – are curious, inquisitive, well-adjusted, and happy.

All this tells me one simple thing: it’s not about how you raise your children; it’s about how you LOVE your children.

Now, can’t we all just get on with our lives?