So here it is, a link to the triathlon web site. Yep, it's real. Yep, it's only a few weeks away. Yep, I'm gonna die. CLT 2004 Index

These Are the Days to Remember

I don’t have a “for pay” job. I spend a considerable amount of emotional energy thinking about this issue, thinking, maybe I would have more brainpower if I exercised my noggin, maybe I wouldn’t be so bitter about housework if I felt like it were more equitably shared with the Husband, maybe I wouldn’t feel so guilty about spending money if I made some. And other thoughts along these lines.

I think everyone has their reasons for how they resolve this issue in their own families, and I wholeheartedly support folks in finding their own solutions. I firmly believe that a mama who is bitter because she gave up a satisfying, hard-earned career is NOT going to raise well-adjusted kids. One of the wonderful things about living in the time that we do is that there is flexibility surrounding the childcare issue--mom can choose to stay home instead of feeling forced into it, dad can stay home if mom makes more money, there is part-time work to be had, there are fantastic care providers who can enrich your kids’ lives. Everyone can be made happy to a certain degree, at least if you’re settled snugly in the middle class.

So every once in a while I have to remind myself that I am choosing to do this. I have a Master’s degree, I could go out and make, well, SOME money (the degree is in education), but I’m deciding to forego the working world for this funny stay-at-home-mom existence, with its 24-7 workday, its piles of poop, its screaming coworkers, its neverending stacks of dishes and laundry and “art project” remains. Because I also get uninterrupted sweet nursing sessions, leisurely puddle-splashing walks, and unexpected tiny, fierce hugs throughout my workday. I don’t have a retirement account or a shot at making partner, but I do have a boatload of sweet, treasured memories of watching the creatures I produced develop and grow.

I’m not fooling myself into believing that my sun-glossed memories of these days can support me in my old age any more than Social Security will. I’m fully intending to get a for-pay job when these ragamuffins are a little older. But I know, deep down, that if I had chosen “the other way” for these first few years, there would always be something missing in my heart. Because it’s just who I am now--it’s my life, this is what I want, and I decided to do it.

I’m just reminding myself, that’s all.

Why Parents of Preschoolers Are Insane (Conversation had while driving in 91-degree weather, rush-hour traffic with screaming baby.)

“Why did you not have a cat when you were growing up?”
“Because they made Grampa sneeze.”
“Why?”
“Because he was allergic to them.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the way he was born.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe his mama or his papa was allergic to them too.”
“What does allergic mean?”
“When something makes your eyes water and makes you sneeze.”
“Why?”
“Because your body doesn’t like it.”
“Why?”
“Some people’s bodies are just like that.”
“Is that why you didn’t have a cat when you were growing up, because of cats making Grampa’s body sneeze?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”

And so on.