adulting is hard

At 8:30 this morning, I poured the contents of my basket onto the CVS conveyor belt. Two bottles of Drano. A four-pack of Diet Red Bull. Advil. Travel deodorant. Static Guard. Dry shampoo. Sunblock. Baby powder. Two Star Wars light saber tooth brushes. Terrible "strawberry pizazz GMO FD&C Red No. 4" kids toothpaste. And a pack of Starburst.

There was an old dude in line behind me and he started laughing and said, "Looks like you've got all your bases covered." Indeed. I am ready for the Apocalypse. And by Apocalypse I mean, A Weekday Morning. Then he told me my toes looked very pretty but that I needed a manicure. Hey buddy, are you offerin'?

The reason I was buying Drano at 8:30 in the morning is because I cannot stand another day of showering in 3 inches of dirty water, and there is no other time for me to obtain said product. Oh and the static guard is because my legs are so prickly that they create their own static force field when I wear skirts. Shave? C'mon son. Be real. Just buy Static Guard, obviously. All of the rest of that shit should be self-explanatory.

I just... I don't understand when LIFE is supposed to get done. I feel like life itself is a full-time job. But the problem is, I already have a full time job. So now I have two full-time jobs. But LIFE seems to operate on the same general schedule as the rest of the world, aka, during normal business hours. Therein lies the problem. Someone open a chain of doctor/dentist/veterinarian/dry cleaner/car repair/coffee/grocery store/salons that operate from 5 PM to 9 AM and you will make ONE MILLION dollars. I swear.

The other day my car died while I was driving 80 mph on the freeway. It was scary as hell. This probably could have been avoided if I'd taken it in 2 days earlier when it started acting funny, but is that supposed to happen before or after the Drano run?

I live about 30 miles from work, and the commute takes between 35 and 75 minutes, depending on traffic. There is a train station about a mile from my home, and the train station downtown is literally across the street from my office. So people (understandably) ask me ALL THE DAMN TIME if I take the train, and when I say "No, not often," they ask, dumbfounded, "Why not???"

Here's why: There's an 8am train, and a 10am train. (P.S. - TRAIN SCHEDULER PERSONS, W-T-F? Would a 9am train be so much to ask?) Now, in order to get on the 8am train, I would have to get my kids to school by 7:40 am at the latest (and I mean like, signed, sealed, delivered: 5 hugs, 3 kisses, 2 doleful stares through the glass, rinse, repeat, the forgotten lunch/bedding/Elsa costume/karate gi/ballet slippers/spirit week paraphernalia, etcetera). Props to those of you who do this on the regular but this is damn near impossible for us. My kids would sleep until 7:30/8am if I let them. I don't know about you, but I would rather eat knives than wake them. I still have to do it almost daily (especially Jack), but I do my best to maximize the minutes of sleep for all parties involved. It works out better for everyone in the long run. When Jack starts kindergarten he has to be there by 7:58 and I'm already dreading the logistics. So, yeah, 8am train? Not so much.

10am train? Strangely, my employer frowns upon people showing up to work at 10:45 in the morning. Brunch, anyone?

But, okay, just for shits and giggles, lets assume I can get my ass on the 8am train. This gets me to work by 8:45. I'm golden. Except then I have to pick up two kids at two different schools by 6pm. I have to take the 4:27 train to get there on time. This means I have to walk out of my Big Law office by 4:17pm. Unless I somehow develop the super power of invisibility, that's just not gonna fly.

This is a common theme. The kids' daycare used to be open from 8:30 to 5. That made it literally impossible to work an 8 hour day. The daycare providers always said, with a nice steaming hot serving of Mom Guilt, "Well, that's a very long day for a young child to be away from his mother. We certainly wouldn't want to draw it out any longer." Certainly not. (And I don't mean to be glib. It does super suck for my poor littles to be at daycare/school 10 hours a day. But I can feel like an asshole about this on my very own, I don't need your help, thankyouverymuch.) Please, wise sage, share with me the employer that's cool with me working a 6.5 hour day?

So. Enemy number 1: Capitalism. The Labor Party. America's unflagging work ethic. You name it.

But you know what else is ruining my life? The schools. Now, again, please don't take this the wrong way. You spend more time with my children than I do. I respect and admire the work that you do. You're saints in apple-appliqued sweaters. But dude. C'mon. Help a sister out.

This may come as a shock to you, but I am not shelling out X amount of dollars every month in ransom tuition to send my kids to preschool so that I can stay home and bake healthy snacks and make crafts in between back to back pilates classes, and come up with weekly ways to celebrate my precious little snowflakes and the teachers that help shape their wittow bwains. I LOVE my crazy critters and I APPRECIATE you teachers, I really, truly do. But it's ALWAYS something. And it can't even be the same damn thing for both kids. Tuesday is Crazy Hair Day for Colby and Pajama Day for Jack and then on Friday I'm in charge of bringing gluten-free donuts and steamed nut-milk lattes for the entire staff. Next week its fresh-picked flowers from the garden. (Does a sprig of regurgitated rosemary count?) The week after it's coffee for Emma and Katie, decaf tea for Lindsey, and cold-pressed juice for Katrina, who's morally opposed to Starbucks.

If only Ryan Gosling were Room Mom.

Of course, if you can't participate in a meaningful manner, you can always cop out by throwing money at it, which is often the route I take. So here, I have created a little equation that represents the real cost of preschool:

Annual Tuition + [($X asinine mandatory "donation" every goddamn week I swear to god) x (1.5 mom guilt multiplier) x (52 weeks)] + (Additional 10% if you failed to volunteer at the Book Faire) + $50 if your blueberry muffins were store-bought = Actual Cost

[Who ever said girls aren't good at math?! That's some Beautiful Mind shit right there!]

You know what makes it all better though?

Amazon Prime.

gosh darnit all over the place

i have definitely cried at work before. like, when someone dies, or sends me a video of pound puppies. but yesterday was the first day i've ever almost cried at work because of work.

i know this is a recurring theme, but... being a mom is hard. being a working mom is hard. life is hard. and beautiful and rewarding and amazing and way easier than a lot of other people's lives, blah blah blah... please let me reintroduce the scale of suck:

but still. it's hard. hard for me, anyway. and also, why is everyone else better at it? i seriously don't understand. i just can't get a grip. i haven't been to the dentist in almost a year and a half. they just sent a postcard that said YOUR LAST CLEANING WAS MARCH 2013 in some attempt to shame me into the dentist's chair. i also haven't had my lady bits inspected by a medical professional since Colby was 6 weeks old. should probably get on that. you know what? i am going to open a dentist/doc-in-the-box/dry cleaner/juice bar/movie theater/internet café that is open from 9pm to 9am. befriend me now before i become a bazillionaire.

so anyway. yesterday was not the best day. i recently found out that the girl who's above me on the food chain at work is leaving. (i say girl because she is practically a child. not sure she can even legally drink. she may have graduated college at 16.) i was hopeful that this could (finally) be an opportunity for advancement. we're in "the shit" on this case and she is leaving us in the lurch and i've been working this thing for years so this could be my chance to demonstrate how indispensable i am. my favorite friend at work gave me a pep talk: you can DO it! so i'm pumped! i'm ready! let's do this thing!

the morning after my Rocky Balboa/Elle Woods moment, i came into the office to discover that the opening had already been filled by another associate - a lateral move. my current position is something less than an associate. somewhere between associate and, say, monkey with a j.d. i decide, after conferring with DM and my girlfriend, that i should still talk to the lead partner so he is aware of my interest and enthusiasm. a while back, when they were hiring for associate positions, i similarly expressed my interest, and he basically said, i like you, but, come talk to me when you don't have to leave at 4pm to pick up your kids every day.

so. i go give him my spiel. so-and-so is leaving, i know this case like the back of my hand, i've been working my butt off, i'm ready for more responsibility, colby is starting preschool in a couple of weeks so i'll have more flexibility with my schedule... basically i'm saying, "c'mon coach! put me in! i'm ready!" he was very relieved to find out i did not come into his office to quit, but other than that, his response could best be described as equivocal. oh well. i was glad i'd said my piece, anyway.


ummm, yeeeeahhhh, about that promotion.
(my boss is really nothing like bill lumbergh, thank the lord.) 

then. my day begins to spontaneously combust. i won't bore you with the details, but, bottom line, a bunch of stuff has to be done by 4:45 in the afternoon. i went into the office over the weekend, and stayed up until 1am the night before, to ensure that things ran smoothly and there weren't any last minute fire drills. insert life's evil laugh here. shit, meet fan. fan, shit. an endless parade of fuckuppery began at 7:42 a.m. and just didn't stop. at about noon it became clear that there was no way i was going to be able to pick the kids up on time. i texted DM. i knew he was busy with work, too, but on the off chance he could cover me, i had to try. no response. i called. no response. i sent approximately 13 increasingly frantic texts to no avail. my sister just started nursing school so she can't bail us out anymore. none of our babysitters had car seats or a house key on the ready. Efffff. "hey boss! i am READY FOR RESPONSIBILITY! errr... tomorrow!"

god/allah/buddha is having great fun with my best laid plans. i'm trying to do two extra days' worth of work in four hours. while perhaps not the most intellectually challenging of projects, it is of the "fuck this up and you are fired, or at the very least, relocated to dinkytown, minnesota" variety, so i was kind of stressing out. my rational thought process: "i am extremely agitated and haven't eaten anything all day! this situation calls for red bull! make it a double!"

meanwhile, i can't really feel my hands and feet. see, doctors think i have this condition my friend refers to as "terrible tooth disease" (known as charcot marie tooth in medical parlance). of course, they can't be sure, because that would require follow-up tests and appointments and who has time for that?! anyway, this condition causes numbness in your extremities, and sometimes it really cramps my style. "hey boss! i am HERE TO WORK! bring it on! as long as "it" does not involve the use of my arms. or walking."

because of the numbness in my legs and feet, i'm basically a danger to myself in flip flops and sandals, but they comprise 94% of my shoe collection, so i wear them anyway. in my haste to be three places at once, i was jogging up the stairs, and totally ate shit. thank the lord i fell up and not down the stairs, and that no one was there to see me.

i wish i could say that was true when i tripped over a box in the supply room seven minutes later, and knocked over... ohhhh, i don't know, EVERYTHING?!? okay, i'm exaggerating. maybe only 73 binders, 184 highlighters, and 2,516 paper clips. the hot, muscle-bound guy from across the hall came running from the racket. he was shocked i wasn't killed or maimed by flying staplers. i sort of wished i was.

the series of events just felt like someone was mocking me: you're barely keeping your head above water as it is and you think you can add more to your load? pfffttt! good luck with that!!! and i thought to myself, seriously. who am i kidding?! i felt frustrated and overwhelmed and more than a little sorry for myself. as colby has taken to saying, "gosh darnit all over the place!"

i finished the work in time, but i was so late to pick up the kids, which just kills me. my mom was amazing in countless ways, but punctuality was not her strong suit. she was also a working mother, with all the juggling that entails. she was often late to pick us up, and i distinctly remember the shame of being the very last person at school or daycare or camp or soccer practice, waiting with a teacher/coach/etc who is, for your sake, valiantly trying to act like they aren't put out. i SWORE to myself i would never, ever, ever do that to my own kids. i lied.

as i'm running out of my building, i notice i have a missed call from the preschool. this is never good news and it scares the bejesus out of me every single time. i check the voicemail and they had called to say they were on LOCKDOWN. what in the fuck?! i called back to get more information. everyone was okay, thank god, but they spent an hour locked in the bathroom with two teachers and eighteen children, because apparently that is what we do now while nut jobs are allowed to run around terrorizing people with guns.

on my painfully slow drive home in rush hour traffic, i tried to chill the F out and summon david foster wallace's "this is water," but really i just tweaked out on red bull and spent most of the drive feeling bad that i can't win at any of the things. my cousin sent me this quote recently and it really hit home:

believe you, me. i had plenty of time for self-flagellation because i was stuck behind jesse fucking pinkman on the I-5 and he was hiiiiiiiigh. in his altered state he believed the speed limit was 22 MPH (or he mistakenly believed he was driving 75). i'm usually not one for road rage but i wanted to go monster truck on his ass with my mom car. the other day DM had friends from boston in town and they were complaining about annoying california drivers who space out and drive slow in the fast lane. usually, i think people are just doing it to be ornery, but jesse here hadn't a friggin' clue. then this morning i was stuck behind another slow-ass space cadet for nearly my entire commute. she literally put on mascara for 27 minutes. i imagined her having seven rows of eyelashes, like shark teeth. there was no way i was going to try to get in front of her, though, because there was a 97% chance she would rear-end me and stab herself in the eye with a mascara wand. i didn't want that on my conscience on top of everything else.

ANYWAY. i finally got to the kids. and they are just so freaking cute sometimes. my mood was instantly elevated. i felt sad, too, though, because colby had these little pigtails and she just looked like such a little girl and i thought to myself, these babies are growing up right before my eyes, why on EARTH would i want to miss a single second more of it? what amount could you possibly pay me to make it worth it? (granted, some days i would pay YOU to get out of the house. but you get my point.)

"work/life balance," the mythical beast. please let me know if you ever find it.

suck by suck west

i wanted to enter a submission for the domestic enemies series on rants from mommyland-dot-com - "the domestic enemies of a lawyer mom." but those are all numbered lists and i only got this far:

The Domestic Enemies of a Lawyer Mom 

1. The Law*

*Including, but not limited to, lawyers, and also every other part of the legal profession.

it's been a rough week. or month. or year. i've lost track. last week colby's daycare gal ended up in the hospital for three days, which required a lot of juggling and covering and testing the outer limits of our respective employers' patience. it also required the grace of my dear, wonderful sister, who saved our asses yet again (and again, and again). i am so far in the karmic hole i can't even see the light of day.

march has been a doozy so far, with birthdays (colby's, mine), holidays (persian new year, steak and BJ day), and travel (a destination birthday party last weekend in loverly sack-o-tomatoes, califor-ni-A). meanwhile the shit is hitting the proverbial fan at work for both DM and me, so we tried to hit the ground running on monday morning, in an increasingly futile attempt to keep our heads above water in this raging river called Life. naturally, Life laughed in our fat faces. about 33 minutes after DM drops colby off i get a call from daycare for the fourth time in six days. now colby is sick. possibly pink eye. she also has a fever so she has to stay out tomorrow regardless. SUPER!

while we were at my dad's house over the weekend, his girlfriend ("fiancée," ew, that word hurts my teeth) told me that kaiser (her employer) has a policy that you don't get any "unexcused absences," which includes sick days. after three absences, you get a verbal warning. three more, a written warning. three more, a suspension. three more and you are terminated. she said the policy encourages people to come to work sick, which is not ideal, seeing as it's a hospital, but on the other hand it's kind of a necessary evil because people "take advantage" of the system and ask for, like, a day off a month. gasp! ummmm, yeaaaaah. i've needed to take all or part of a day off PER DAY lately. i'm almost serious. it's INSANE. and that is with regular child care, a sister who is a saint, a husband who picks half the sick-baby short-straws, and fairly flexible employers. what's your average joe (or joe-anne) supposed to do? i just don't get it. i've said it before. being a lawyer mom sucks. dealing with sick kids sucks. but you know what sucks even worse? when you CAN'T be there for your little snot rods because your lawyerness gets in the way. it seriously hurts my heart.

of course it doesn't help that most of the people i work with don't have kids, or else they have full-time supermom wives and/or live-in nannies so when their kids are sick it's really not their problem. the notion of not putting work first? not even on their radar. my old boss used to say "the law is a jealous mistress," but eff that man. The Law is a First Wife and she ain't havin' none of this shit.

also the part about how working bangladeshi sweatshop hours is par for the course. last night my supervising attorney said to me, "you don't have to stay up all night doing this or anything." ummm, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind but thanks!

then the part about how we have "regularly scheduled" meetings every week that go forward as planned approximately 13% of the time. the other ... 87(?)% of the time, they are rescheduled to literally the most inconvenient time you could possibly find on my calendar. also, all work emergencies are seven times more likely to occur at 4:59 pm than any other minute of the day.

oh, and what about the pathophysiology of the common cold:

day 1 (most likely a monday to ensure maximum career fuck-up-ery): Thing 1 is infected. slight chance of extra snuggles which makes it worth it, but moderate possibility that husband will contract the dreaded Man Cold which will ruin life for 5-7 business days.
day 2: Thing 1 feels well enough to use your stomach as a trampoline, but had a fever 23 hours ago so has to stay home again. decides to utilize the time during which you are on a conference call to practice the art of plate spinning with your grandmother's china. you can only engage in an insane display of semaphore and watch in silent horror.
day 3: Thing 1 is right as rain. (or not. 1/3 chance s/he is infected with some sort of feces-based disease that is highly contagious for 7-10 days. good luck with that.) Thing 2 seems fine at drop-off, but displays sudden-onset flu-like symptoms at the exact moment that you settle in with a hot cup of coffee 29 miles away.
day 4: repeat day 1 with Thing 2.
day 5: repeat day 2 with Thing 2.
day 6: saturday ruined by resurgence of snot faucets and/or man cold.
day 7: buying a new house seems easier than doing all that laundry and disinfecting current abode.
day 8: monday again? are you $@#%&*#$ kidding me?

okay, then there's "backup childcare." so. jack is in preschool and colby's in an in-home daycare. USUALLY, barring freak ER visits like last week or pre-arranged vacation and inservice days, the only reason the kids need to stay home is because they are sick. this occurs with little to no warning, and with alarming frequency between the months of november and ... october. so the conversation with our short-list of backups goes something like this: "are you available to sit for the kids?" "possibly, when?" "well... sort of... right now? also, i hope it's not a problem that they are sticky cesspools of contagion?" needless to say, our backups are often otherwise engaged. enter saintly sister from stage left. thank you dear lord. but she is starting nursing school in may and THEN WHAT?!

oh yeah and blogging. i had no idea. this shit takes serious WORK, man. like, you have to pimp out your blog and play the game and learn the politics and... ain't nobody got time for dat! at least, i don't. i am expected to actually work at work, and when i get home for second-shift, the little slave-drivers do NOT take kindly to their mama giving them anything other than her undivided attention. and rightly so. but it just doesn't leave a lot of time to talk at length at people who may or may not be listening. i am recalibrating my expectations to be content with two followers as opposed to instant literary fame and world domination. #firstworldproblems. seriously though. life is hard.

i was whining to a girlfriend about how one is supposed to survive and she said: "don't have kids." thanks for the pearls of wisdom, friend! just one slight snag. make that two. and make that greater than slight.

oh. THEN. last night i go to pick J up from school? LICE INFESTATION. F. M. L. seriously. if he gets lice, i am going to fake my own death and disappear to mexico. shhhhh. don't tell. i just can't. that has to be somebody else's problem.

update - march 27, 2014: drop Jack off at school and, while they were checking for lice, undergo intense scrutiny for a little scab on his face that he keeps messing with. another kid was sent home the day before for impetigo. i am admonished that if it does not look better by tomorrow morning we will have to take him to the doctor. (honestly, they should have those punch cards so you can get your tenth visit free.) then, when i pick Colby up from daycare (after her first full day in a week) i am informed that they sent another little girl home earlier with hand, foot and mouth disease. (ps what in the EFF is that?! every time i hear it i think of that foot-and-mouth disease that kills livestock.) i could not make this shit up. praying to the gods of infections disease that we will dodge these bullets.