Do you ever feel like you are keeping score of your performance as a working mother?  I know, I know… the game of life is not a competitive sport.  Still at the end of every day, I know the score of that day’s juggle.  And whether it was a win, a loss, or a draw.  Sure, these games will never be played on ESPN and there is no fancy Superbowl Ring being handed out for a job well done.  But the announcer in my head is keeping score of how I am doing as a working mother.

“Mom starts the day strong with a 3-point bonus: she manages to pack her kid’s lunch AND pull out the leftovers for Dad and herself.  Everybody eats today!  In fact, it looks like she scored an additional point for extra difficulty; each family member received a fruit, a veggie, a protein, and a whole wheat grain.  Mom is clearly taking control today.”

 “Oh no, Mom lost 4 points for not using her hands-free device on a conference call in the car.  Nervously looking for any cops who can dole out a hefty fine clearly shows that she is not on top of her game.  Can she recover, folks?”

Read the rest of this entry

As I watched my predecessor, Karen, write about her exit from her corporate job and, therefore, her role as Working Mom, I felt the familiar twinges of guilt tug at me.  Here was a woman who was reassessing her values and priorities and making changes that reflected those life decisions.

And here, on the other hand, am I.

I have two small children - a son in third grade and a three year old daughter.  I work full time at a job that keeps me (and as a result, them) out of the house from 7 in the morning until 6 at night.  I spend as much time commuting as I do going over homework.  I send checks for lunch instead of sandwiches and avoid the PTA robocalls like a bad case of head lice.

What life choices am I reflecting by working outside the home?

Why do I, and millions of other mothers, choose to work full time?

Read the rest of this entry

Using an old cell phone that has been converted into a toy, my son pretended to email people on his “blackberry” yesterday evening.  He sat there for 10 minutes, thumbing the keys in remarkable similarity to my own style.  When I asked him to come to the dinner table, he casually responded “I’ll be there in a minute after I finish this email.”  In fact, he didn’t even look away from his “blackberry” when he responded.

I wonder where he learned that one?

I am living in a virtual avalanche of email.  Too much, too often, and too many accounts are bogging me down.  Between all of my email accounts, I easily read over 250 emails per day. 

Read the rest of this entry

When I returned to the practice of law a little over a year ago, it was admittedly with some reluctance:  at the time,  I was working from home for a large Fortune 200 corporation, helping manage several of the online publications.  I wasn’t making a lot of money, but I was generally happy:  my time was my own, I was ever-present for my young daughter, it allowed me to write and gave me time for my photography, and I was helping contribute financially to our household.  But then, two former bosses called me and practically begged me to come back to law; because I respect and enjoy working with these two men (and despite my better judgment), I did.

Read the rest of this entry

Last week, right about the same time the first commenter was leaving her comment on my previous post , I walked into the office of my boss, and turned in my written resignation.

The truth is, he knew it was coming.  I’d warned him it was coming about 5 weeks ago — I told him that I intended to leave the company, and while I wouldn’t leave him before September 30th (because my role becomes crucial to closing deals at the end of the quarter), my intent was for my last day to be October 15th. For this reason, last week’s conversation was merely a formality.

Read the rest of this entry

One of my dearest friends, Holly, is about to embark on the role of a lifetime - motherhood.  I am so excited for her.   It’s been a blast planning her baby shower and answering the only-another-working-mom-would-know sort of questions.  Like is that $300 pump really worth it?  YES!

Holly has already decided that she will be returning to work.  Just like most of us, the choice was already made for Holly.  She simply cannot afford to not work full-time.  I remember feeling the same way when pregnant with my son - wishing that I had the option of not having to work. 

I want so much to share not so much my wisdom but my experiences with Holly about juggling motherhood and career.  I’ve made a little list for her:

Read the rest of this entry

On Monday, I went to work, as did every employee in the Houston area, wondering if my company was going to be open for business on the following day.  In the previous twenty-four hours, Tropical Storm Edouard had appeared in the Gulf of Mexico, and while it showed little possibility of strengthening into a hurricane, all indications were that it was headed straight for the Houston metropolitan area.

Predictably, my daughter’s preschool announced it would be closed on Tuesday, the day Edouard was scheduled to make landfall.  Similar, my husband’s employer announced the same.  Great, I thought to myself, we’ll all be home together as a family when the storm hits.  Then Outlook pinged its announcement of an incoming email:

“We will remain open tomorrow,” the e-mail said, “however, your safety is of utmost importance.  We leave it to your discretion as to whether you feel you can make it safely to the office.”

You know where this is going, right?

As it happened, management had scheduled an all-day meeting for Tuesday, and further, made it clear that the meeting wouldn’t be canceled.  I knew that there was no way I was going to get out of that meeting.  And so, I went.

It turns out that Tropical Storm Edouard was really a non-event as far as my part of town was concerned: while there was a lot of rain, I made it to my meeting without any fear of danger, my husband was home with my daughter, and all was well.  But still, I have to admit that I was perturbed I felt pressured to do what it took to brave the weather.  I can’t help but wonder if “your safety is of utmost importance” was nothing more than lip service.

And the fact that the meeting was 12-hours long, and one of the managers made a joke of his expectation that we “consider the company our spouse” didn’t improve my mood much, either.

The number one question I get asked when people find out that I work full-time (the majority of which is outside of the home) is “How do you do it all?”  I always have a lot on my plate.  I work a high-stress job in the high-stress field of software, hold a position on my son’s preschool Board of Directors, write regularly on four different blogs, and cook a meal every night.  Somewhere in between I do my best to find ample quality time to spend with my son whether it is fighting for a flexible schedule or taking a afternoon off to head to the zoo.  I’m like a duck who looks calm and collected on the surface but whos legs are frantically moving underneath. 

Sometimes I think I do too good of a job at making it look easy.  I won’t easily admit how many times I’ve cried in the bathroom at work from missing my son, times I’ve lashed out at my family for an issue related to work, or had felt so overwhelmed that all I can do it sit on the couch and veg out. It’s much easier to look like the calm, collected Super Mom Project Manager than to admit that I don’t have my act together.  Most days I am flying my the seat of pants with my blackberry in one hand and my child’s hand in the other.

The truth is, I don’t “do it all.”  We have a regular housekeeper, we have lots of family in our area that support us tremendously, I haven’t stepped foot in a gym in two years.  I’m hardly “doing it all.”  There are moments where I feel that my juggle between work and home is as balanced as a house of cards - all it will take it one gust of wind for it all to fall apart. 

I’ve come to the realization that I don’t have to do it all.  I’m just doing it.  “It” being whatever needs my attention most whether its my son, my project, the unpaid bills on the counter, the fridge that needs stocking, or that laundry that needs laundering.

Well maybe not the laundry.  That, my friends, rarely get my attention.

Today I am heading out of the office to an all day team building event.  The VP of our organization invited the entire project team to her home for a day of kayaking on the Russian River.  We’ve all been working incredibly hard on this project. And I am thrilled that my VP is recognizing us with a day to hang out, bond, and spend sometime outside during work hours.  Pretty cool, huh?

We’ve all spent countless hours in front of our laptops.  We’ve all lost time with our families, nights, and weekends to ensure that we were successful.  It’s wonderful to get appreciated for the hard work.  It’s great that we get to go outdoors and do something healthy.  I’ve never had a VP who opens her home up, offers a bed for everyone to sleep in, homemade meals, and a relaxing time on a river.  It almost sounds too good to be true. 

I’m trying hard not to sabotage the day by feeling more pangs of guilt for missing another day with my son.  I’ve lost so much time with him over the last month due to this demanding project.  I’ve tried not to choke on the guilt.  So it’s a little hard to be totally excited about getting to spend another day with my team.  It only means another day without my son.  

I’m sure that when I’ll get there I’ll have a great time.  It’s moments like these that are the best for networking.  I’ll get lots of 1:1 time with influential people in my organization all wrapped up into a fun, informal day.   It would be downright foolish of me to pass up the opportunity. 

I know that participating in today’s events that I am doing what’s best for my career today.  But it’s hard not to question if what I am doing is right for my family…   Mommy guilt is like toxic waste.  It’s going to do its best to try to ruin my day.  And I’m going to do my best to ignore it.   Nothing is going to stand in the way of my good time.

Except for my terrible kayak skills.  But I only have myself to blame on that one.

I have a confession.

I’m not one of those supermoms who kicks ass in corporate pumps all day, just to come home and construct a perfect princess castle for my adoring four-year-old with nothing but glitter and love in the evening. I’m not that friend who brings home the bacon, fries it up in a pan, and neverevereverever lets you forget you’re a man. Seriously, I’m not.  The truth is, I totally cheat.

Oh, I don’t mean to insinuate that I’m doing anything dishonest.  I’m just suggesting that for me, “doing it all” means getting help.  In my case, the cheating comes in the form of a housekeeper.  Once a week, I have someone who comes to clean my modest home, and I admit to a thrill of coming home to almond-scented floors and sparkling sinks.  I know that tradition and society says that I should be the person who cleans my own house (and for most of the week, I do keep the house in order and tidy), but after working 9-hour-days, and coming home to take care of my daughter and husband in the evenings, the thought of spending my weekends cleaning the house sort of galls me.  So … I cheat.

What about you — do you cheat?  How?  Do you get pre-made meals?  Frozen dinners?  A laundry service?

Come on, you can share.  I won’t tell.