Plan F

I got cocky. I admit it. I thought I had this work-at-home mom thing down. I boasted that I never missed a deadline and rarely worked nights or weekends. THAT’S how important work/life balance was to me. I took on not 1, not 2, but *4* assignments at once, on top of the online writing class I teach. And you know what happened then? The proverbial “poop” hit the fan, people. So I had to go to Plan B, then C, then D, then … you get the point.

Plan F involved scrambling to turn on the TV for my 3 y.o. -- something, ANYTHING, quick, quick! -- and throwing the shrieking baby in the Exersaucer so I could interview a prominent doctor on my cell phone during dinnertime in the 8 min. he had between surgeries. Miles may have been watching “Keeping up with the Kardashians,” I don’t know. I just know I had to get the story done.

Granted, a freak blizzard resulting in more snowfall than the Mid-Atlantic has seen in decades could not have been predicted. Nor could the sheer number of consecutive snow days off school. There was is so much snow piled up around here that roads, sidewalks, and parking lots are still impassable even a week after the storm. And surely I would never have imagined that we couldn’t get to the sitter’s house a mere half-mile away, or that no one could come to us.

Still, the hits kept on coming. I had deadlines that required multiple phone interviews with hard-to-reach sources. I had to share our one laptop with my husband, who was forced to work at home as well. The snow stopped, but our sitter got sick. School reopened, but with a 2-hour delay. C. went back to work, but had to work extra-long hours to make up for missed time. My calls got rescheduled to the most inconvenient times possible. And still, I persevered.

My brother and his wife had their baby 10 days early, and I had to rush down to see him (wouldn’t you?!) and deliver the bouncy seat. We got some bad news about a sick relative and a flurry of worried phone calls followed. The enormous amount of snow and ice on the roof caused a major leak in the family room, requiring 6 bath towels to sop up the carpet every couple of hours. And on top of this? We’re heading out of town for my FIL’s birthday this weekend.

Did I meet my deadlines? No. I turned in one story on time, got an extension on the others, and am still working on the last one. Did I manage my phone interviews? Barely, though I can’t be sure of what callers heard in the background. Did I solve my sitter shortage? For a few days, by calling in some pinch hitters and rearranging my schedule, requiring the baby to -- GASP!-- skip some naps. Yep, it was that dire.

Was my career ruined? Did I throw in the (sopping wet) towel and slink away in defeat? Did I vow never again to take on more work than I could comfortably handle? No, not yet, and kind of. First, I was honest with my editors, clients, and students and they understood. The blizzard bungled things up for a lot of people. Next, I worked my butt off to finish my work as best I could. And lastly, I am going to think twice the next time an assignment comes my way.

The reality is, I’m the parent who has to drop everything when a blizzard hits, school’s canceled, or someone’s sick. Yet everything still has to get done. That’s the worst part about this juggling act I call my life.

The best parts? I get to build a snowman with my kids on a random Friday morning, snuggle up and watch a movie on a gray afternoon, do work that fulfills me for clients I like and respect, be a mom AND a professional. And I admit, being able to work in sweats and slippers is not too bad, either.

READS O’ THE WEEK: This article on why snow days suck resonated with me, and this post on HybridMom.com felt like I could’ve written it myself.

Snowy with a Chance of Insanity

Seasonal Snowfall Total in Baltimore: 79.9 inches

Previous Seasonal Snowfall Record for Baltimore: 62.5 inches in 1995-96

Days of School Cancelled This Week: 5

Number of Times Our Street Was Plowed: 0

Number of Times Hubs Shoveled the Walk: 7

Articles of Clothing Required for Son to Play Outside: 15

Games of Candy Land Played: 9

Games of Memory Played: 7

Number of Puzzles Completed: 6

Hours of TV Watched: 41

Number of Times My Kids Fought Over a Toy: 517

Number of Times My Family Got on My Nerves: 1,034

Number of Times I Considered Fleeing the House and Never Coming Back: Too many to count

At first, the record-breaking snowstorm that hit the Mid-Atlantic was an exciting event. No one around here had ever SEEN this much snow. The first snowfall happened on a Saturday, so everyone was home and nothing got cancelled. We sat around in our PJs, watched movies, went out to play in the snow, and got together with our neighbors for an impromptu potluck. Fun!

Then it snowed again. And a couple days later, AGAIN. Piles of it mounted up on street corners and once 4-lane roads narrowed to a single slushy lane. School was cancelled, churches and libraries were closed, and pretty much everything in the state shut down. The weather report played continuously on the TV and the snow continued to fall.

The kids began to get antsy, the grown-ups began to get irritated, and everyone began to wonder just when the hell things would ever get back to normal. And still, the blizzard dragged on. And on. And ON.

Two adults trying to work from home plus one computer and two active kids equals big-time stress. In desperation, C. tried to dig out and head into the office today. It took him 20 min. to get off our street, and 10 min. after that, he was back. The roads were a mess; not worth the risk.

Seriously? If this snow situation doesn’t improve -- and SOON -- I cannot be held responsible for my actions. Not least because the number of bottles of wine in the house is currently <1.

VIDEO O’ THE WEEK: How my boys are passing the time indoors

Holy Snow!

To say that we got some snow here this weekend is like saying Lady Gaga is a little quirky. The flakes started falling around noon on Friday, and when the kids woke up at 6:45 a.m. on Sat. we couldn’t see out the windows. Huge snow drifts on the roof obscured the view. Then I went downstairs to let the dog out the back door and … she ran face-first into a WALL of snow. Confused, she turned around and ran back to her bed.

Seriously. Picture a waist-high wave of snow pressing against a sliding glass door. The railings were piled more than a foot high with snow. The poor dog had to hold it until C. could get outside and shovel a path for her. The snow was so deep, he described it as a triple-layer shoveling job. He was drenched with sweat when he was done with the walk, and it was still snowing.

Miles couldn’t WAIT to get outside. He wolfed down some pancakes, then started the labor-intensive process of putting on his “snow gear.” That’s what he calls it: gear. Long johns, socks, snow pants, turtleneck, fleece pullover, coat, boots, hat, scarf, and gloves. Whew! To his credit, he stayed out there for HOURS, despite getting snow up his back and down his wrists. The boy loves snow as much as Lady Gaga hates pants.

I have to say, I’m glad this blizzard happened on a weekend. First, because my husband was home and not stuck on the side of a highway miles and miles away. And second, because HE could shovel the mountains o’ snow and play with our polar bear-blooded son. I’m good for a half-hour or so, but then I want to go back inside and have a hot cup of tea.

Besides, it’s not like you can frolic in the snow for hours when you’ve got an 11 m.o. baby. It’s hard enough getting 17 layers of gear on a 3 y.o., let alone a person half that size. Not to mention that if I dropped Riley in a snow drift, we may not see him till spring. And lastly, because he can’t move in that much snow, even if he could move in that many clothes, I have to carry him. Like he doesn’t weigh enough without the 15 extra lbs. of gear!!

We did bring him outside today, after the snow stopped and the sun came out. But that was mostly just for the photo ops. And because my MIL—who, incidentally, lives in a snow belt up north yet didn’t get a single flake there—scoured the stores to find a tiny snow suit for her youngest grandson. We couldn’t let that go to waste, now could we?

Riley seemed a bit perplexed and mildly interested in the snow, until a few moments later when he slipped and did a face-plant in it. That was the end of our winter family festivities.

I’m a little nervous about what happens when C. goes back to work tomorrow. Will I have to strap tennis rackets on my feet and bundle my children in 50 yards of Polarfleece to go get the mail? Will I have to melt buckets of snow to flush the toilets if a water main breaks somewhere? (My friend actually had to do that for 3 days once.) Will we lose power like my poor 9-mos.-pregnant SIL and have to stay in a hotel?

I don’t know, but if that happens can one of you ski over to my house and let the dog out?

Every Day is Groundhog Day

So today is Groundhog Day. And apparently that dumb rodent doomed us to 6 more weeks of winter. Personally, I am DONE with this season. We’ve had our snow, now can we move on to butterflies and tulips, please?

Feb. 2 is no different than any other day for me. As I’m always saying to my husband, EVERY day feels like Groundhog Day around here. And by that, I mean the 1993 comedic film starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, in which the characters repeat the same day over and over again.

Every day, the kids wake up before dawn, whether it be Mon. or Sat., a school day or a holiday. And then, of course, there are diapers to change, bottles to prepare, meals to make, kids to dress, dishes to do, and on and on and on. Sometimes the only way I know it’s Saturday is because my husband is around.

Loading and unloading the dishwasher has become so monotonous that I often cannot remember where we are in the cycle. I have to inspect the glassware to be certain. And as for baths? Did I give the baby one today? Or was that yesterday? How about the other kid? Who KNOWS?! It’s the same thing every day.

Perhaps the most maddening aspect of this endless loop I call my life is that nothing is ever truly DONE. In my professional life, I write articles, turn them in, and they’re done. (Well, technically they are edited and revised and published or sometimes killed or held indefinitely but for the purposes of this anecdote I write them and they’re done, OK?)

But it’s not like you can check “diaper changed” off your to-do list because there’s another one being dirtied even as you do so. Same thing with laundry. It’s just in an ever-flowing state of being washed, folded, or put away. (And seriously, sometimes I don’t even bother with those last two.)

In the movie, Bill Murray wakes up to the same song on the radio every morning. I think it’s “I’ve Got You, Babe.” Well in my world, it’s the Little Einsteins theme song. Then I get to replay the what’s-for-breakfast battle and the who-gets-dressed-first fight with my 3 y.o. Every. Single. Morning.

Sometimes if I’m craving excitement and spontaneity, I’ll leave the diaper bag at home when we go to the park. Ooh, dangerous! Or I’ll concede to Miles’ wishes to have breakfast for dinner, or to put his PJs back on at 2 in the afternoon. Sure, go nuts! Shake things up!

But as you know, when you have babies and small kids, you can’t stray from the routine too much. Or there will be HELL TO PAY, people. Just TRY to suggest listening to music instead of watching Little Einsteins and see what happens.* Just try to switch up the naptime routine by reading only one book instead of two, or failing to leave the door open at the exact right angle. And if you ever get a crazy idea like changing the lyrics to a classic lullaby like “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”? DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YOU.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run. It’s snacktime, and I must go prepare the apple slices and crackers in the exact right configuration. Unless I did that already?

PIC O’ THE WEEK: Don’t ask me what he’s doing. I don’t know, either.

*See, even as I was writing this I was having a "deja blogged" moment. I've probably written this exact same post before.

Cabin Fever

Ah, winter. What’s not to love? Snowy days, hot cocoa, cozy nights in front of the fireplace, debilitating stomach viruses, cleaning bodily fluids off everything you own, not leaving the house for days on end...

Yep, that was our weekend. I was feeling pretty smug about avoiding the stomach bug that’s been going around lately. But apparently we just missed the first wave. In the middle of the night on Friday, Miles woke up crying. C. went in to check on him and found him lying in a puddle of his own filth. C. captured it best when he said, “It smells like a dirty pet store in his room.” He cleaned up as best he could and put Miles back to bed. The man’s a saint, I tell you.

The next day Miles wouldn’t touch his food, but otherwise seemed OK. Then Sat. night rolled around and C. was the next to get hit. Hard. Miserable night #2. Sunday morning I headed out to stock up on Pepto, Immodium, Gatorade, and ginger ale to nurse the boys back to health. Came home, was reading Miles a book, and suddenly he turned into Linda Blair from “The Exorcist.” Thankfully, I was able to rush him into the bathroom for the worst of it. He didn’t even seem upset, just surprised. Believe it or not, he’s never thrown up in his 2 ½ years of life. “What’s that, Mommy?” he asked, fascinated at the contents of his stomach. Gross. That’s what.

So about this time I started feeling not-so-good myself. But who wouldn’t, under the circumstances? Even so, I hoped it would pass. But no, I was struck next. And people, if there’s anything worse than puking your guts out, it’s doing so -- repeatedly -- when you’re 8 mos. pregnant. I can honestly say it was worse than labor.

In fact, I feared I was going to go into labor. And as you know from my last post, I’m soooo not ready for that yet. I called my doctor, who said the biggest risk was dehydration, which could cause contractions. If that happened, I was to go to the hospital and get an IV, he said. Super. Needles and hospitals are right up there with cleaning up vomit on my list of least-favorite things.

Fortunately, we all turned a corner by Mon. morning. Weak and bleary, not quite trusting our legs, we arose out of our beds and stumbled downstairs. Tentatively, we sipped Gatorade and nibbled Saltines. So far, so good.

Later, since we were all going blind from watching too much TV and getting on each other’s last nerve, we ventured out to Babies R Us and PetSmart. We were still weak and irritable, but we passed a happy half-hour or so looking at the hamsters and goldfish. Then it was back home for chicken soup and a nap. It was the longest weekend in history.

Then this morning, Dad was back to work, Miles was back to school, and life was back to normal … except it’s a snow day. C. made no attempt to conceal his glee at escaping the house at last. The lucky bastard. I am about ready to stick my head in the oven. Spring can’t come soon enough.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: Thank goodness for Jessica Simpson, who lightened my spirits by wearing these unflattering “Mom jeans” over the weekend. Poor girl.

NEWS O’ THE WEEK: My essay, “Belly Flop,” appears in the Feb. 2009 issue of American Baby (available free at Babies R Us). Check it out!