Life

Sometimes incidents take place that make me think “Wow, life has changed.” Usually followed by “I’m super boring, need some excitement and maybe a tattoo.” I mean, we all know that life changes when we have kids. Like, duh. And I’m sure we have all received lots of friendly reminders while pregnant from family, friends and strangers, “Life is about to change.” Oh geez, thanks.

But then there are those life reminders that really hit the message home.

I remember – almost ten years ago – being at a friend’s engagement party in San Diego. The party was a fabulous Hawaiian themed barbeque of fun, fun and more fun. When I reluctantly had to leave to make my commute up to my abode in Los Angeles, I went into the guest room where my purse was. I was told that it might be smokey. To be forewarned. I walked in and indeed, there was so much pot smoke that I couldn’t see . . . like at all. Seriously. I literally bumped into a few of the groom’s friends who were sitting on the bed taking rounds of hits. And then I bumped into my friend’s mom. Now this was a party.

Fast forward ten years and last weekend I was at a friend’s birthday party for her 1-year old twins. Again, I had to leave the party early. This time I was meeting up with a friend who was setting up a baby registry for the twins she’s expecting in a few months. Again, I went to the guest room where my purse was. I was told there might be a woman in there breastfeeding. To be forewarned. So I waited ten minutes, asked around to see if anyone knew – and received only “you’re in the clear” responses – so I took the bold move. I knocked. I asked if anyone was in there. I walked in. Sigh. No breastfeeding mommy. I grabbed my purse and scrammed.

Yup. Life changes. For shizzle.

Yup, I’m pregnant!

We’re thrilled.

We’re a little like “What the hell are we doing?” And a little like “Really? That was friggin’ quick!” And a lotta like “This is pretty awesome.”

Life has been busy. I won’t bore you with our completely uninteresting updates of work, more work, grad school, and more work. BUT it’s going to get less busy. I’ll be back to just one job (working from home – freelancing – which I’ve been doing since May) while raising my little girl. Um . . . hell-to-the-yay!

So life will get calmer before it gets busier (when our next bundle of joy arrives in the spring). And then will get calmer again when Rob graduates from business school in May . . . hell-to-the-FRIGGIN-yay!

And then we’ll have two kids who are 18-months apart. Um . . . yikes!

Actually, I think it will be nice to have them close in age: they will have similar interests and – eventually – will be on similar schedules.

It will be fabulous. We’re feeling really lucky.

And Tessa already loves her little sibling (size of a blueberry). She took the ultrasound and quickly crumbled it up in her fist (sibling rivalry already?) and stuffed it in her mouth (pure love, clearly).

As I mentioned earlier, I’ll be embarking – next week, eek! – on a freelancing career that will allow me to work from home. I’m ecstatic.

What this means for me:

• I get to be with my daughter more – yay!
• I get to have a one-minute commute v. 45-minute commute – yay!
• I get to maintain – maybe even grow – my career while also balancing being home and available for my kids – yay!

What this means for our family:

• Tessa will be home with me or playing with neighborhood kids instead of at daycare – yay for Tessa, me and the neighbors’ kiddos!
• Rob and I will have no more drop-off or pick-up concerns – yay!

But we’ll also be largely reliant on Rob’s income as – with the world of freelancing – one month can be good, the other can be . . . well, no income at all. So while it means less juggling stress it means additional financial stress. It also really scares me how I’m going to balance working and taking care of everything at home.

And then this article from the Wall Street Journal came out – exploiting all of my fears. It talks about if you “work from home,” people take that as “you don’t work.” And the damn article is true! I’ve mentioned to people that I’ll be working from home and either the first or second thing they say is “OMG! You’re going to be a SAHM!” I’ve let it slide because I really don’t care enough to correct them. But at the same time, the point is the same as the article: working from home doesn’t translate in people’s minds and their expectations will be “you’re home, you can do it.”

And I just don’t feel like my standard response of “you can suck it” is appropriate. Call me a neighborly gal.

Basically – I’m a little nervous. I will be working. I will have deadlines. But I’ll also have to balance my work deadlines with the spontaneous deadlines at home: like a poopy diaper explosion or – geez, I don’t even know what happens at home! Ahhh.

We’re working the numbers to nanny-share with a neighbor two days a week, which would be lovely because I would have a few hours a week where I could dedicate to getting work done. But, as with any change, my trepidation persists – alongside the excitement, of course.

I’m nervous. Excited. But nervous. But more excited than nervous. But nervous nonetheless. Know what I mean?

There were two incidents recently that had me all “WTF?!”

The first was when I went to drop off my ten-month old Tessa at the gym’s childcare center. Now don’t get me wrong. I love love love my gym and their childcare center. They are ridiculously wonderful. In fact, I was super impressed when I checked in, bee-lined to the bathroom to change Tessa’s diaper only to come out and see Tessa’s name and most of her stats up on the infant room board.

Do you have another Tessa today? I asked. I mean, I hadn’t checked into the infant room yet. How did they know all this stuff about my little one?

No, I saw you walk in so added her to the board.

Wow. That’s impressive!

Yeah – she says with a warm smile – just remind me if she’s three or four again?

Three or four . . . ? I ask the leading question because I really can’t believe what she’s asking.

Three or four months.

Okay, now before I had kids, I didn’t know the difference between a three-month old and ten-month old. In fact, I don’t know the difference now between a two and two and half-year old. I have no clue.

But I don’t think I thought three-month old babies babbled like crazy and climbed and walked. (Okay, she walks while clinging to a coffee table or equivalent but do three-month olds do that?!).

The second incident was the same day and the opposite seven-month swing on the pendulum. I was playing and giggling with Tessa at a local play area – Imagination Avenue – in their two-year old and under section. Tessa was climbing, banging toys and stuffing lots of objects in her mouth as I tried to ignore all of the germs she was licking off the toys.

A woman and her preggo friend come into the sectioned-off area with a little 15-month old darling girl. We chit chatted about our kids. What not. And I can see on the preggo lady’s face that she’s stunned that my kid and her friend’s kid aren’t doing the same things. Stunned. Tessa is crawling and climbing while the other girl is walking and quickly getting bored. She finally blurted out “Wow, Maddy is running circles around that other baby.”

Um – excuse me? What do you expect? They are seven months apart. Duh.

But then I thought, is it really their expectations of my baby – either that they think she’s a three-month old newborn or that she should be running like a 15-month old – that are asinine . . . or my expectations that childless people should be aware of baby milestones? Sure I’m aware of what a kid about 0-12 months should be doing. After that? I’m clueless. In fact, I read the baby handbooks on feeding, sleeping, everything for that moment. So I know right now how much Tessa should be eating and napping. Do I know about next month? Nope.

But then I thought – because, of course, I couldn’t let it go – I also don’t pretend like I know baby milestones. I don’t make comments about how many words a kid knows at two years versus three years because I’m not a child speech specialist – how the heck would I know what’s appropriate? And why would I care?

So, all in all, I was like “WTF?!”