workingmama

So I’m going to see Sex and the City tonight with some of my gal pals, I just got back from NYC where I had a very Sex in the city meets Ab Fab time. I went for my 25th HS reunion which was a blast. I got ready with my best friend of 35 years; a throwback to our High Shcool Days. True to form my sister insisted my dress was blue and my sweater black and my shoes brown. I insisted they were all black and basically told her to sut the %$##* up but nonetheless it made me feel bad. Of course I wanted to look and feel good-I’d be lying if I said differently. She was relentless. Finally we left my mom’s house and I was fuming, we decided to walk a bit in our heels -I needed to walk off my fury. My poor friend, an only child –memories of so many fights between my sister and I she had witnessed. At about 8th street and University Place my bag broke, the circular handle just snapped–the good news, I forgot about my sister’s bitchy comments–I decided to either buy a new bag quickly OR get duct tape–here’s where it becomes more AB FAbby–trying to maintain this suave together sensibility–whatever — I went into a hardware store and duct taped my bag together. We hopped in a cab and had a great time. So I write this because before kids I often had Lucy and Ethel type experiences with this friend- ridiculous temp jobs, hilarious travel tales, selling lemonade on the streets of NY when we were much too old… BUT now living in SF and having two kids my struggles to maintain my ‘look’ and semi-hip mama persona is a sham… I realize this the most in NY.

My sister who has a NY ‘lifestyle’ offered for my son and I to visit the Soho CLub her husband belongs to –a swank club in the Meat Packing District–apparently there was a pool on the roof and it was 100 degrees. I thought it would be fun and at least refreshing. I knew ithe Club was super exclusive/ super expensive but I could hang… OK so there I was in my tevas and Costco bathing suit. The pool was about 10 foot by 10 foot and cloudy from all the sun lotion and sweat–the scene was great –on the roof–full bar and restaurant and everyone was a ‘type’. I felt so schlubby, but somewhat like an Anthropologist. There were many jappy kids, older moms with adopted chinese girls, people with way too much of a look for Sunday at 9am and way too coiffed for a 100 degree day. My son had a blast with his cousin, I just drank in the comedy. A super jet setty couple sauntered by looking for the coveted lounge chair ( part of the Sex in the City story line). Between them their bathing suits probably cost more than my monthly mortgage payment ( and I live in SF!) Her hoop earrings matched her suit, he had the look of a ‘Player’–although not attractive he oozed with cocky sexuality–she was jsut obsessed with scoring a lounge chair. Turned out he was British; makes sense there is a Soho Club in London. He ordered a $20 bowl of oatmeal… she kept talking about how people were saving chairs; she was irate. Finally I made eye contact with him about how crwowded it was ( it was 100 degrees and at least the pool-let did cool you off a bit). He said it was just not good etiquette to allow kids to have their own lounge chair–CENTRAL CASTING! Finally she scammed a chair and settled into her pose. My eyes drifted to a skinny pregnant woman in the tiniest bikini, then there were two –identically shaped ,women –twins , sisters? both about 7 months pregnant each with fabulous bikinis and jewelry–I guess skinny NY pregnant women all look alike. My sister says thy don’t eat any rice or bread, she knows women like that! ANway it was all fascinating.. a respite from my working mom, beat the clock rat race–off to the movies!

I love the Rolling Stones and I often think of that song. I never got why mom’s in the 50’s and 60’s were popping pills just to get through the day. I watched MADMEN last season and then I got it for that era–cloistered in the suburbs forced to wear those dresses and heels, tiny waists –husbands out cavorting in the city –domestic work endless.. but what about 2008? Well now working moms have other reasons to ‘pop pills’ or at least feel stressed and pulled in too many directions. As I made a quinoa salad for the Staff appreciation day at my son’s school I nearly created a flood trying to handswash some of my new ‘leggings’ –didn’t I wear those in the 80’s? Meanwhile the kids dinner was on, I was listening to NPR about primary coverage and paying bills. Sometimes I just have to laugh. I had my annual checkup yesterday and when they ask if you drink –I never lie–but is sounds kinda bad to say I drink 4-6 nights a week, not tons but I really look forward to that glass of wine. Actually, the more I think about it YOGA is my ‘mother’s little helper’ which sounds healthy and all… don’t get me wrong I have practiced yoga for nearly 20 years, was a dancer before ( remember those 80’s leggings??) and Yoga has helped me through breakups, illness, pregnancy, postpartum –it’s so vital to my health and welfare, without it I start to deteriorate mentally and physically. The other day I ran to a noon class, got there with a minute to spare and realized I didn’t have my yoga clothes. My friend who turned me onto this downtown, lunchtime oasis was just coming out of a class. I was so desperate to get in my yoga that I didn’t even say hello I just asked if I could borrow her just used gear–very funny Sex in the City meets AB FAB moment. She understood, as a fellow working mom of two she handed them over and gave me a hug to the horror of all the others in the waiting room who couldn’t imagine how someone could jones so badly they’d be willing to wear someone elses sweaty workout gear… welcome to my world!

I’m a working mama, struggling to balance my kids’ lives, my career, financial obligations, my relationship with my husband and (god forbid) my own needs! I have a sneaking suspicion I am not alone. Sometimes I feel like I got the raw end of the feminism stick. I was brought up in the 70’s and 80’s to think I could  do it all. Remember those Enjoli commercials? ‘I can bring home the bacon…. fry it up in a pan….’ then whip my hair our of a ponytail to have these lustrous locks. Well, the reality is more like, get up a 6:00 a.m. do my little pilates / yoga routine for 15 minutes , if I’m lucky, and then it’s beat the clock till we’re out the door. I don’t stop most days till I fall into bed. The whole story has been amplified this week as my husband has been away on a work trip to Kauai, Hawaii ( I’m trying not to be jealous) and I, who, am now freelancing, was asked to work full time downtown in a stressful advertising/ corporate environment–which is great because we need the dosh BUT trying to organize my life is like maneuvering troops! Sigh –Let me introduce myself. I am a 40 something (40 is the new 30 right?) urban mama living in San Francisco. I have two boys aged 8 & 4 and an Abyssinian Guinea Pig named Felix.  We moved out of a lovely neighborhood where we were renting a cute but small cottage  we dubbed ‘The Bayou’, to buy in the last affordable neighborhood in the city akin to the bowels of Brooklyn or….  I’m sure there is an equivalent in most cities. So here I am… a  Working Mom, a  Writer/ Producer/ Yoga Teacher/ Doula–AKA Psycho Mommy crazy woman. I wouldn’t change  most of my life for anything BUT how did it all get so crazy. Today alone,  I made 3 lunches ( left my own on the kitchen counteer alas), showered and shampooed two boys , folded a load of laundry, made pancakes ( had batter from the weekend in fridge–don’t think I’m too Martha Stewart), bought tickets to the new Indiana Jones movie online, laid down cinnamon extract to combat our ant problem in an environmntally friendly way, took out the garbage, did the dishes, paid a few bills AND that was all before 8 a.m.  It’s not so much that I am complaining , I just find it all so humorous. I just popped out to Starbucks for a quick pick me up ( I quit caffeine last year after too many anxiety attacks and am much better now ). I wanted a  ‘medium  decaf cafe au lait’  ( I of course love latte’s but I decided I can’t afford them and an au lait is a nice alternative)–the ‘barrista looked at me and said ‘a tall decaf mista’–OY, I didn’t know the jargon! I just have to find humor in the smallest slices of life and right now my life is all about making it all fit together like a Big Puzzle. I thought it would be fun and cathartic to write this blog –so stay tuned for more episodes from the Dark Side of a Working Mom’s Life!