working mom wednesday: good and bad...

This week’s Working Mommy Wednesday prompts are:

#1) I'm not good at... OR #2) I'm very good at...
 
Funny story: I walked around Target on my lunch hour yesterday and was thinking about what I would write for this post.  Shopping alone is a rarity and it's hard to just stay present in the moment. I end up strolling through aisles trying to plan in advance for birthdays, cards to send, toiletries we may soon need and to be alert for sales.  Not quite as restful as it used to be.  But, those rare trips are also used for thinking.  Mulling over ideas and occasionally being hit with a mild stroke of inspiration.  As I looked around for a birthday gift to send to my cousin's daughter, it struck me.  I knew exactly what I would write for what I'm good at and not.
 
Then, I sat down at the computer to type it out and *poof* 
 
Gone.
 
I am very clearly not good at remembering things unless they are written down. 
 
What I am good at is making lists.  I never take a trip to the grocery store anymore without a very detailed list in hand.  I have post-it notes stuck around my computer monitor labeled with dates and to-do items.  When an occasion arises to send out cards, I have a list ready to check off.
 
True, I've always been a list person.  Writing is one of the ways I learn and absorb information.  I used to make lists and just that process alone was enough to help me remember, not having to refer back very often.  Now, with Mommy brain, lists rule my life, keep me going, provide a semblance of organization.
 
My name is Jen. 
 
I make lists.
 
For sanity's sake.

wordless wednesday: truth...

(borrowed from the Work in Progress blog)

where i work {a.k.a. the fiery pits of hades}

When people ask me where I work, my simple answer is, "The city." Because when you live in the suburbs of New York, there is no need to name it. Around here there really is no other city that matters. New Yorkers are a fairly geo-centric lot. And, I think I may have just made up that word/phrase.

The real story and the long answer to the question of where I work is a bit more complicated. New York City has five boroughs (and no, Long Island is not one of them) and I work in three of the five: Manhattan, Brooklyn and the Bronx.

Manhattan is my favorite for so many reasons because, hello, it is Manhattan people. I can take the train which allows me to either work or read. The office is in the financial district right on the water with fabulous views, amazing choices for food (ahem, Pump and Crumbs) and people watching. While it is about a 90-minute commute door to door, relying on subway and train schedules, it is relatively easy to get in and out.

Brooklyn. The Brooklyn office is in the middle of godforsaken nowhere and it takes over 90 minutes to drive the 26 miles from our house. Say what? The highway portion of the drive is easy but, the last five miles is the commute from hell with upwards of 50 traffic lights, millions of pedestrians and the need to dodge horribly driven dollar vans. There is nowhere for me to sit at this office. Ever. Which makes pumping an interesting feat that goes something like this, "Hi, I hate to bother but, would it be at all possible to kick you out of your office for the next 15 minutes so that I can express my baby's next meal?" A lovely conversation for both parties. But, this location does have one redeeming quality. It sits right next to a brand-new Target. And, how can you truly hate any place that neighbors the beloved bulls eye?

Then, there is my home base and the office where I spend the majority of my working days. The Bronx. More specifically, the South Bronx which I will refer to today as the Fiery Pits of Hell or {FPoH}. The location is just bad. Bad as in, no way I'm parking my car on the street past 5:00 pm as I like having four tires. Bad as in, turn your engagement ring toward your palm and stick your hand in your pocket lest the sparkle catch the eye of, well, pretty much anyone you may pass. Bad as in, the deal on the street right now is 3 pair of riveted, spandex hotpants for $5.00. You read that correctly.

Riveted. Spandex. Hotpants.

I would have taken a photo as proof but, weighed the consequences if someone were to see me and decided against it in about a nanosecond. B.A.D. My husband will be happy to read that there will be no shopping on my lunch hour because even on the best body image day of my life I would not be caught dead in those hotpants (sorry babe!) so unless I have a need to browse the aisles of Rite Aid or Staples, my cash stays in my wallet. Then, there is the food. Street carts with suspect meat, chain fast food places where even the lettuce is wilted (really, Subway, have you no standards?) or places pretending to be just like the popular chains but missing by a mile (Twin Donut). Have I mentioned that this location is bad? Oh and, I have no office space of my own here yet, either. It's in the process of being built and will be finished sometime before the end of this year. Maybe. However, there is still more space in general here and finding a private office for the day is usually not an issue.

The upside? I enjoy working with the people here. I've been with this company a long time, believe in it's mission and the services we deliver and am grateful that they valued my experience enough that I was able to come back from maternity leave as a part-time employee. Doing this, terrible locations and all, allows me to be home with our son the majority of the time while still contributing to our family income. With good reason, when asked where I work I generally stick to, "The city."

(nearly) wordless wednesday: the power of a dress...

Today, in this $20 dress from the store with the bulls eye, I'm feeling okay about my reflection in the mirror. It's a change from my at home mama uniform of shorts, a tee and flip-flops. This 7.5 month post-baby body of mine is not so bad. There is an actual waist and nearly normal-for-me curves (and yes, hair that is badly in need of a cut). Forget that everything is still soft, slightly shifted and kind of askew underneath. My body worked hard for all of that. Today, I'm good with the dressed up me:

putting on my big girl pants...

Literally and figuratively.

Other than a few special dress up occasions in the past five and a half months, I've been living in yoga pants, jeans and shorts. My nursing tops, tanks and tees all now worn soft and with various drool patches. It's been a comfy existence and I've loved every minute. I've been home raising our boy full-time on extended maternity leave that, by the time it comes to a sad end, will have lasted over 6 months. Now, I'm on the verge of donning dress pants, proper shoes and professional tops once again.

Six months is far more than most working mamas get in the United States. It's a crime that the wealthiest nation in the world treats parenthood with such disregard. Did you know that Canada gives parents a full year at home to raise their children? Yet on our side of the border, the standard is six weeks for a vaginal birth and eight weeks for a c-section. FMLA is a generous *eye roll* twelve weeks, if certain conditions are met. And in each of the six, eight and twelve week scenarios, being paid is not a given.

The one {very important} perk of having worked in social services for more than 12 years was this fringe...cashing in all of my accrued sick and vacation time to, essentially, be paid to raise G for his first half year.

But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

My heart is already heavy thinking to July 6th and my return to career outside of our house, without G in my arms. But, mostly, I really like what I do. My company worked out a 21 hour position in order to keep me with them. They get me three days a week on a flexible schedule, according to the needs of the program. The job I'm moving to is with a very exciting, energized group of people who are passionate about what they do, growing the program and making a difference. It's a positive move with a much, much longer commute. That will allow me to be home four days a week doing what I really, truly love.

Trade-offs.

I'm hoping after the initial shock of my return to the office wears off and I get somewhat used to the commute in and out of the city that I'll feel this trade-off is the best of both worlds. The majority of the week home with sweet G and a few days doing something that matters in the grown-up world.

Time will tell.