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I’ve heard all about the nesting instinct that’s supposed to be kicking in at home. Yet somehow my house is a mess, I have boxes of baby clothes and gifts left unsorted, bills to be paid, and a grocery list that’s been growing for weeks. None of it feels excessively urgent.
But ever since my doctor gave me a date to induce me, I’ve become super-humanly productive at work. My work is very unpredictable, and typically my strength is in being able to react at a moment’s notice. On the flip side, my weakness is in planning ahead. Give me two weeks to do something and it may never get done. Give me two hours — or even two minutes — and you can expect perfection.
But all of a sudden, I’ve been filing like a fiend, putting things in order so that others may find them when I’m not here. I’ve written weeks worth of articles for publications that have not yet been planned. I’ve enthusiastically and efficiently scheduled meeting after meeting with colleagues to prepare them for the changes that will be associated with my leave.
I never expected that when I found my nest it would be at work. Please tell me that soon — very soon — that birdie will fly home. My fridge is empty, the laundry looms, and someone really needs to wash that kitchen floor.
Just found out NewGirl’s estimated fetal weight, and she’s slightly below average. It may be the last time I’m proud of her for being “below average,” but if you had to give birth to her, you would be too.
We also found out she’ll be induced a week and a half before her due date (due to some minor pregnancy health issues). I think NewDad’s blood pressure skyrocketed on hearing the news, as he realized that the calendar may overtake his quality-control standards as the prevailing concern as he tries to finish home renovations before NewGirl’s arrival.
I told my boss as well, and I think it may have made reality hit home for him too, and I’m feeling sort of guilty, to be honest. He’s been so supportive and excited for me and wants nothing more for me than to put work out of my mind so I can enjoy our new baby during my leave. But my leave is going to have a big impact on him. He’ll have to be much more involved in my department than normal, and he’s already leveraged to the max.
The members of my team will be impacted a lot as well, but they are excited and up to the challenge, rightfully seeing this as an opportunity to show what they’re capable of — a chance to position themselves for professional growth down the road. There’s no such reward in it for my boss. I suppose that’s why he makes the “big bucks” as they say, but I still feel bad.
The other night I was having dinner with a group of friends whose children are all older than mine. We were discussing (or perhaps more appropriately, I was agonizing about) the myriad changes soon to be taking place in my household. I was explaining to them about the school we’d be going to and the classroom to which we’d been assigned. I told them about the other children we’d met who’d be in our class and my initial impressions of the parent population. I was, in essence, blathering on for quite some time before one of my friends interrupted to ask, “Which one of you is starting kindergarten? You or your son?” They pointed out that I’d been speaking in the plural all evening saying “we…” instead of “my son…” Wow. As soon as they did it became abundantly clear that not only is that how I’d been speaking, it was also very much how I’d been thinking. But just when I started to consider proper boundaries and appropriate separation, the husband of our hostess returned from a little league baseball game with their son. “How was the game?” the hostess asked. “We won, 6-2,” said the dad. “We were down five runs but then we did this and then we did that and blah blah blah…” Not one person in the room questioned why he was saying “we.” It wasn’t as though he was playing the game. So maybe that’s how it is. Maybe it will be “we” for quite some time and maybe that’s okay. After all, my son isn’t the only one whose life is about to change.
I don’t think of myself as a control freak, and most certainly not as a micromanager. I’m not into turf battles, I love to delegate, and I want to be able to reward my team members with opportunities for growth.
Why, then, is it so difficult to prepare other people to do my job during my leave? We’re a fairly lean organization. There’s not a lot of redundancy among our corporate staff, so we all have expertise, functions, and responsibilities that we share with no one — no matter how large or small our teams may be. I’m not worried for half a second that anyone will feel like they don’t need me after all (at least I don’t think I am). And the work I do is more of an art than a science. There are few truly right and wrong ways to do any of it.
But as I prepare my team members, slowly offloading tasks with a watchful eye, I can’t help but cringe when they make a decision I wouldn’t have, even if it’s a fine one. And then again, I’m not entirely put at ease when they do it exactly as I would have either. Maybe they’ll discover that my job is not all that difficult after all.
Help! Will I ever be able to “cut the cord” at work before NewDad cuts it at the hospital?
We have recently been thinking about using babysitters more. My parents are close by and more than happy to watch CommuterGirl as often as they can; but, I hate to always impose on them. So, we started to search for a sitter. We didn’t have to look very far – only about 5 doors down the street. She is a sophomore college student, studying nursing. She loves kids, and even loves our dog! I didn’t think it could get much better than that. I guess I was wrong. The babysitter was great, don’t get me wrong, but we spent a fortune. Between the cost of dinner out with our friends and paying the babysitter (who, by the way, didn’t name a price so I just made one up) we were out a lot of money. I guess it can get better…free babysitting from the grandparents. So, I’ll be calling on my parents more often. But, I do want to do something for them. I know they love spending time with CommuterGirl, but I’d still like to do something special once in a while to show our appreciation. Any ideas?
Picture this: I’m in my office at my desk, with my boss watching the computer screen over my shoulder. I’m pulled away from the desk a bit so that together we can watch a video I’m working on for him and discuss the next round of edits we want to make. All of a sudden, I think we’ve switched channels, because the next installment of Alien seems to be showing in 3-D right on my belly. It’s undeniable, clearly visible to all in the audience — NewGirl is doing her fetal gymnastics and won’t stop until the credits roll. I know it’s distracting me, but what about my boss? Is he as engrossed in it as I am? He doesn’t say a word about it, but I can’t help wondering what’s going on his head. Is it possible he’s focused only on the video we came to see? That couldn’t be, could it?
A study was released stating that children 8 – 16 months who watch videos such as “Baby Einstein” and “Brainy Baby” have a smaller vocabulary. 6 – 8 fewer words than children who don’t. I thought CommuterGirl was doing really well with her vocabulary. Have I stunted her development by turning on PBS for 20 minutes in the mornings while we lounge in bed in the mornings? (By they way, don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t have a lot of time to lounge…CommuterGirl wakes up really early!) We don’t use a lot of videos -- we haven’t bought them. I find it’s easier to just turn on public television. But sometimes I do need the help entertaining my toddler. I don’t plop her in front of the TV for hours, and I’m usually watching shows with her. So, why do I still feel like I need to make excuses?
I’ve come to realize there are two types of people who give parenting advice. There are those who honestly want to share with you their wisdom and experiences so that you may avoid some of the common traps, pitfalls, mistakes, and sleepless nights they’ve endured. Granted you may get much conflicting advice from these “well intenders,” but I nonetheless always welcome and value their input. Then there are the “doomsdayers.” These are the people whose generally unsolicited advice is, quite frankly, not advice at all. It’s often just a warning of the horrors you’re about to endure, generally accompanied by an unwelcome patronizing attitude.
When you’re tired, the “well intender” tells you, “You might want to consider taking an afternoon off from work to get some extra sleep. You’ll need it even more after the baby comes.” The “doomsdayer” on the other hand tells you with a chuckle, “Oh you don’t even know what tired is. Just you wait!” So often it seems that what the “doomsdayer” is really thinking is, “I’m so excited to have a rookie join the club, because that moves me up a peg on the ladder of seniority in the parenting game.” I suck it up, smile, grin, and thank the “doomsdayers” for their warnings as if I haven’t heard it before.
But what do you do when that “doomsdayer” is a colleague? It’s hard not to interpret their positioning in the parenting game and a power play in the workplace. My kids will always be younger than theirs. So, will that weirdness ever go away?
Judging by the Back to School sales, promotions, and advertisements, it’s apparently time to start thinking about the first day of school. For my family, that means kindergarten. And with the start of a new school comes high anxiety, sleepless nights, and nervous sweats…and that’s just me. My son is fine with the proposition of starting kindergarten. For him it means one thing and one thing only: he gets to ride the school bus. I on the other hand, am consumed with thoughts about whether he’ll make friends, how he’ll do without his daily nap, and yes, the SCHOOL BUS. I never rode a school bus myself so most of my ideas about what it’s like come from the movies, which paint a pretty scary picture. I’m also more than a little consumed with the new logistical nightmare we’re headed toward. Two different drop-offs in two different locations, not to mention a variety of after-school arrangements. And how in the world do they get away with defining “full day” as 9-3? I’m used to dropping off my kids at 7:30! Do any of you have advice about dealing with the kindergarten transition? Help!
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