My baby is 6 months old

I can't believe it. Six months has literally flown by. Everyone says it does, but like so many other things in life, I really have to experience it myself before I believe them.  Well. It's true.   What stands out to me about the past half a year are as follows:

• Non-medicated LABOR.  Enough said.
• Scrunched up little legs while sleeping on your chest.   He never does that anymore. :(
• Pleading, pitiful prayers for just 10 more minutes of sleep
• Realizing I was actually looking forward to those quiet, peaceful nightly feedings, where I would just stare at him in awe and feel like my heart might break in two 
• His first milk-coma smiles I swore were real
• Poop. So much poop.
• The first time he threw his arm around my neck
• Little webbed toes
• His absolute lack of feeling any obligation to smile back at you 
• The tremble in his bottom lip just before he sticks it out
• The look on his face when he sees me peak over the crib
• Nighttime dancing squats
• Traveling by myself cross-country with a 4-mo old
• Nuzzling his neck
• His smell, which if I could bottle it up and sell it, I would make millions

Finslippy

So I don't do very often what good bloggers must do: read other blogs.  The realistic side of of me says that I don't have enough free time to just veg out on the couch and read other people's crazy rants (I only want people to do that to my blog), but then the other side of me just plain forgets that there are other really interesting/mildly special people out there writing kind of like I am.       Then, every once in a while, I randomly read all through my blog list (you should check it out too, cuz some are pretty amazing mildly special people talking about life) and then I get rejuvenated and think, yes!  I can do this too.    ("this" being blogging... Maybe that was obvious... Ok)

At any rate, Finslippy is a cool little blog simply because Alice Bradley makes me laugh and I feel like in another life we would have been BFF's over chai tea. Or maybe sushi. And I feel like she may raise her little one a little like we are going to -- basically just trying to not let him fall off the bed. Again.  (I cringed as I wrote that because its a true story. agh)  (Is cringed the past tense of cringe? It looks weird)

At any rate...again... I liked this part of her post a few weeks ago:

Okay, so: first mistake, one big basket. My second mistake was that I put all my work hours toward work that didn’t really speak to my talents. My corporate assignments could be completed by any reasonably smart person; they didn’t need my specific strengths. I was (gasp!) expendable. Which got me thinking, okay, where can I be invaluable? (Or more valuable?) And that led me back to this blog. This is a valuable platform for me. It gets me work. Also, and more importantly, I enjoy it. It’s what I do. It’s important to do what you love, if you have that luxury. I know many people don’t, and I certainly don’t always, but I do here. So: I am recommitting to the blog for selfish reasons, but I hope you don’t mind that. (Wait, does anyone blog for selfless reasons?) 

So maybe I'll try to do more of this blogging thing.  I like it, and I think it gives me a platform to practice writing and sharing stories: two things I love.  My audience (all 3 of you) may have to go through some real growing pains with me and for that I apologize profusely in advance.  But stick with me, and maybe I'll get it together and actually make sense sometimes.   And there is always that off chance this blog could help get me work.   Though I won't hold my breath for that one.

Making The Choice

Some say today's women can have it all: thriving kids, successful career, healthy marriage, clean house, a close circle of friends and still manage to get a pedicure every once in a while.   I'm only 5 months into this thing called motherhood, but I have to say, I call bullshit.   There are only 24 hours in the day, and even though 8 hours of sleep is a long-lost memory, I don't know how these superwomen do it all.  

If you can, (some of my best friends seem to be doing a hell of a good job at it) I give you props and then some.  But I am throwing in the towel on being able to "have it all" and with my stomach in knots, am saying goodbye to what once looked like a very promising career.  Today is my last day on the job.

For the past 3 months I've only worked part time, which I felt like I could balance well and still maintain my sanity.  What I didn't account for was having to pay a sitter more than I would end up making and being stuck in a position that did nothing to satisfy my aspirations but was all that made sense for the "part-time person."  I guess I'm young enough and naïve enough to not be ok with mediocre.  I only want great.    And I think my full time career could have been that. It could have been great.   But what I have now in Forrest is amazing, and if I can't do both, I wholeheartedly choose him.   It's just, well... I feel like a little part of me is dying today and if I start crying right here at my desk on my last day of my "career," I hope the world understands.  I've worked on my profession for over a decade, and I only worked on creating Forrest for 9 months.

I bet some people think I'm an awful woman right now...

There's a song out there with the lyrics, "In the blink of an eye; Seems like minutes as the years fly by... Afraid to stop because you can't stop time."   I know that Forrest will grow up so fast, and when it's all said and done, I don't think I will ever regret leaving a promising full time career behind to be present with him every day.  I am trading in business development meetings for play dates, pencil skirts for spit-up soaked t-shirts, and challenging DoD solicitations for Mother Goose and Curious George.  I am trading in a comfortable income and some nice discretionary spending for a real tightening of the proverbial belt. But I really feel like I'm doing the right thing. I want to be with him -- to be wholly present and to be... his.     It's just . . . I feel like I'm going through an identity crisis.

Today is my last day on the job.   And tomorrow I may cry a little for what is past, but then I will scoop my beautiful little boy up and cuddle him as if my life depends on it.  Because it might.