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Working from home

23 May

Sometimes the basement floods or the nanny gets deported and suddenly Mommy has to work from home. This coincides with the worst possible day ever to not be at the office. You’re happily playing on the floor so she orchestrates a conference call.

MOMMY:  Thanks everyone for dialing in. As you can see on page four—

YOU:  DUCKA DUCKA DUCKAAAAAAAAAA!

CLIENT: Is there a fire alarm at your end?

JUNIOR ACCOUNT GUY: I think I hear a cat dying.

Mommy quickly turns on Sesame Street’s YouTube channel, even though it might give you epilepsy, and goes off the cuff because she can’t see her Excel file.

MOMMY: —as you’ll see on page six—

CLIENT: What happened to page four?

Sippy cup spills organic goat milk all over laptop. Sad Mac face appears. 

MACBOOK AIR: BLEEEEEERRRRRRR!

YOU:  BLEEEEEERRRRRRR!

JUNIOR ACCOUNT GUY:  Seriously is that cat okay?

Mommy tries to hit mute but instead hangs up on the call. Now she can’t find the passcode. When she finally dials back in, she has no idea what anyone is talking about. It’s probably about her.

CLIENT:  …clear out the dead weight, we’ll be in a great place. What do you think on your end?

MOMMY: Well… (fuuuuck!)… let’s circle back EOD with some below the line ideas to maximize share of dollar (that sounds like Mommy has this under control, right?).

Total silence.

YOU:  PPPFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTWRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPFFFTTTTTTTT!

Mercifully, someone has a hard stop so the call ends. Your diaper has leaked all over the sofa. Mommy lies down on it anyway. You pick up her company-owned Blackberry and toss it in the toilet, which is a good metaphor for where Mommy’s career is headed.

DRINK:  Career Suicide. 1 oz Jack Daniels. 1 oz Tequila. Top with 7up, OJ and a splash of grenadine. Enjoy while updating your Linked In profile.

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The business trip

17 Apr

As if she doesn’t feel guilty enough when she leaves you for work every day, now Mommy’s got to TCB in a different time zone.  After an embarrassing incident at security involving her breast pump, she makes it to her destination and compulsively checks her phone in case of an emergency, spending your university tuition in roaming charges. A day of meetings is followed by a night of client-schmoozery, but all she wants to do is jump on Skype and judge what outfit Daddy’s put you in (please God not that Trish Stratus tracksuit again).  When she finally gets back to her room to deflate the Dolly Partons her colleagues have been ogling, it pains her to flush that liquid gold down the drain because anything more than 3oz of breastmilk is on the no-fly list. At the airport, Mommy hits up the duty-free to get Daddy a cheap bottle of scotch, which he’ll need after his foray into single parenthood. Following some light turbulence where she was convinced she was going to die in a fiery crash so she hastily wrote out a will on the back of her boarding pass, Mommy arrives home to find you sound asleep and not missing any limbs. It takes every fiber in Mommy’s being not to wake you. It’s the one time she hopes you won’t sleep through the night.

DRINK: The In-Flight cocktail. 1 oz Skyy vodka, 1 oz crème de cassis, dash of simple syrup, muddled raspberries. Combine with a squeeze of fresh lemon and top with champagne. Garnish with a swizzle stick, cocktail napkin and a child kicking your seat.

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The end of maternity leave

3 Apr

The time has come for Mommy to head back to work. Going to a place where people listen to her ideas, she is compensated financially for her efforts and she can enjoy a coffee without it going cold first because someone peed on her is, incredibly, filled with mixed emotion. When people ask her how she’s “handling the guilt” of leaving you, she goes into full Renée Zellweger as her face contorts into that of a screwed-up sad person. As she squats in the supply room pumping milk next to extra pens and industrial-grade Windex, she misses you like crazy (and misses midday naps, track pants and not trying) but she feels proud to support her family in a job she genuinely loves. No one asks Daddy how he handles the guilt. They only ask him when he has to “babysit”. There are some Mommies who quit thriving careers with expense accounts and elite status Aerogold to be stay-at-home Moms. These women are bat-shit crazy! Or they’re saints. Staying at home is the hard. Then again, balancing motherhood and a career means that no matter where you are, you should be somewhere else. Uh-oh. Here comes the ugly face again. Damn you, Zellweger!

DRINK: A Zombie. Juggling 3 a.m. feedings and 7 a.m. conference calls will make you feel like one. ½ oz dark rum, ½ oz cherry brandy, ½ oz light rum, 3 oz orange juice, 1 oz lemon juice, dash of grenadine. Shake over ice and serve in a highball glass after a long day of Trying To Be Awesome At Everything.

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Weaning

9 Feb

In the latest installment of “Mommy is Essentially a Talking Barn Animal,” the time has come to wean you.  Weaning is the universe’s way of telling Mommy that the party is officially over. “Oh, you’re going back to work now? Fine. Time to hand over that free boob job you’ve been enjoying. Oh, and don’t forget to pick up your period on your way out.”  If busting out her 32B bra collection (circa La Senza 2007) wasn’t punishment enough, Mommy also has to deal with Daddy’s gloating about the fact that she can no longer use breastfeeding as leverage.  At least she’s got period cramps to fall back on.  Mommy hereby promises to never be judgy about mothers who breastfeed their school-aged children again. Keep the party goin’ and the liquid a-flowin’ sisters!

DRINK:  The Mad Cow. 3 oz Milk.  1/2 oz Coffee liqueur. 1/2 oz Hazelnut liqueur. 1/2 oz Vodka. 1/2 oz Irish Cream.  Combine all ingredients into a shaker with ice.  Serve in a glass lined with chocolate syrup and top mixture with whipped cream. Now scrape off all that whipped cream because you’re no longer burning 500 calories a day. Grrrrrr.

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The Office Visit

19 Jan

The time has come for Mommy’s mandatory “bring the baby to the office” trip. Mommy carefully scheduled the visit during one of your feeding windows, as her lack of skill with the Hooter Hider would inevitably lead to a traumatic nipple-flashing episode. Mommy’s inbox has been overflowing with emails about how excited everyone is to meet you, although she knows they’re actually just dying to see how much of her baby weight she’s lost. None of her business casual wear fits, so Mommy had to truck it to Banana Republic yesterday to buy a half-price polyester frock she’ll never wear again, and take her hair straightener and MAC Studio Fix out of hiding. Mommy will put on her best “really interested” face as she’s updated on the latest office politics and business results, while secretly dreaming about “The Bachelor” episode waiting on her PVR. As you’re passed around from one colleague to the next, she’ll also try to block out what she recently read about keyboards being five times germier than toilet seats. Mommy really hopes you don’t cry, unless it’s when she’s caught in conversation with that guy from accounting who can’t read social cues.

DRINK: The 7-Day Weekend. ½ oz pineapple rum, ½ oz light rum, 6 oz 7 Up. Enjoy over ice in a chilled cocktail glass the next time you feel like celebrating the fact that you can wear pajamas 24/7.

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