Transitions

Everyone has been asking me how the transition to the working world has been going for me and I'm happy to report it's been going well.  Just a few months ago I never imagined I'd be back in the working world, and particularly not in the housing finance field, where my co-workers all have mortgage lending, real estate or investment banking backgrounds.  I was nervous not just about getting up to speed in a new job, but also about how I'd handle the logistics of the work/life balance.  There'd be getting two kids and myself ready in the morning and being somewhere on time, relegation chores and errands to evenings and weekends, less time for friends, hectic evenings, and the biggest adjustment of all, reduced time with my kids. 

I can thank a smooth transition on two things: a short commute and our nanny.  I work three miles from home.  At my last job, I commuted 32 miles of highway across three counties in no less than 40 minutes.  With kids and daycare hours and drop-off and pick-up and getting stuck in traffic, well, it would have been miserable.  Instead, my commute is a ten-minute relaxing drive on city streets and I'm close enough I can run home if I forget something or reach my kids easily if need be. 

Then we hired a nanny.  We thought we'd put the kids in daycare because we liked the reliability of a center with its limited closings.  I'd even dismissed a friend's suggestion of a nanny when she heard how much we were going to spend on daycare.  But when we found out at a family gathering on Christmas Eve that Chris's cousin's new wife, Ashley, was looking for a new job after her other position concluded at the end of December, we e-mailed her as soon as we got home that night and a few days later we had a new nanny.  As my start date approached, if feelings of sadness overwhelmed my feelings of excitement, remembering that Ashley would be taking care of our children in their own home comforted me.

It wasn't until the whirlwind of my first morning when I realized the other stress relief a nanny provided besides peace of mind.  No matter where my kids are in the process of their morning routine, Ashley picks up where I leave off.  One or both kids may or may not have eaten, had their diapers changed or gotten out of their pajamas when she arrives, but she takes over and I can head out the door and straight to work without adding an extra 20 minutes (at least) and all that energy to drop the kids off at daycare.  It's awesome.  I realized this is what every morning had been like for Chris when I was a stay-at-home mom, except he probably didn't appreciate just being able to walk out the door and know everything with his kids was under control.  But I sure do, and again, it's awesome. 

So I'm not getting up at some crazy hour to get everyone ready, packing lunches and diaper bags, trudging to the car with kids and gear, and fighting traffic.  I actually show up at work reasonably relaxed.  I'm even enjoying cubicle life where I have a space to call my own and keep clean and organized. 

Working life has not been completely without its stresses.  For the first two weeks, Oliver cried when I left in the morning and it took a lot of patience and creativity on Ashley's part to keep him distracted, and reminders on my part to take it easy on myself for feeling guilty.  And I've had to change work clothes at the last second on more than one occassion because Soren spit up on me.  And there'll be the day when Ashley gets sick and Chris and I have to make a last-minute decision on what we want to do for alternative childcare.  But overall, the stresses have been minor and nothing worse, even if they're different, than the stresses I dealt with as a SAHM.

My grandmother told me the other night, "You'll love your kids equally, but you won't always like them equally."  Ah, how I totally get that.  (Even if it makes me cringe to wonder at what points during my childhood I was in an "unlikable" stage.)  Every stage of childhood has its challenges for parents, and honestly, sometimes I have patience for some challenges more than others.  So be it.  Every parent hears the phrase, "This too shall pass."  And it shall.

Dinner a work in progress

The only thing that's changed about dinner time at my house since Oliver was born has been standards.  My goal is still harmonious, relaxing family dinners with well-balanced, homemade meals.  In the meantime, I'm expecting that dinner time will be chaotic at least through the toddler years and achieving the vision I'd always had of family dinners is simply a work in progress. 

If I get home from work on time, I have about 30 minutes to feed the baby, set the table and prepare dinner before Oliver hits meltdown mode.  And by prepare dinner, I mean, microwave leftovers or whatever meal exchange meal I'd (hopefully) remembered to transfer from the freezer to the fridge to thaw that morning.  Chris and I learned on the evening of my first day back at work that actual cooking on a work night just isn't feasible.  Chris, meanwhile, entertains the kids, and somehow we manage to pull ourselves together for a family dinner.  Oliver may be throwing a fit about what's for dinner, while Soren suddenly needs to nurse and Chris or I or both of us shuttle back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen for a forgotten utensil or a refill of Oliver's water, but we do eventually make it to the table and sit down to eat together.

And this beautiful family harmony, the quintessential image I carry in my mind of what families do together, lasts, oh, about ten minutes.  And whining and crying often make up a good portion of that precious time.  Sometimes we go against better parenting practices and acquiesce to Oliver's request (demand) for a "wahwipop," but it buys us not just extra time at the dinner table, but Oliver's good mood. 

I'm realizing it takes time and a lot of modeling before children are old enough to master social mores, manners and all that.  Like I said, it's a work in progress.

Chris returns from London tomorrow and I look forward to resuming life as part of a two-parent household.  He had more fun than he could have imagined and, as for me at home on the other side of the Atlantic?  It wasn't so bad.  That is, thanks to all the wonderful people my children and I have in our lives.  The relatives who babysat, our reliable nanny who took over every workday morning where I had left off in getting the kids up and ready for the day, and the friends who came over to share dinner, playdates or walks.  The experience made me realize how much more manageable parenting is (whether your partner is away or not) when you're surrounded by support.

Falling in love all over again

Chris only spent a few hours a day at the hospital when Soren was born; the rest of the time he was home with Oliver, who was sick.  I had felt so lonely when Chris left the hospital for the night the day after Oliver's birth.  Chris was getting no sleep there and there was a lot to do at home since we were about to move.  This time I savored all the alone time I had with Soren. Back home, there would be housework and meal prep and most of all, another child who'd want my attention.  I appreciated what a special opportunity I had to spend undivided time with my new little baby.

So during my stay at the hospital, my focus was on Soren.  I spent hours relaxing in bed feeding him, snuggling with him, watching him sleep, marveling at the unique facial expressions only a newborn can make, taking pictures of him, and falling in love with him.  Yes, after a miserable pregnancy and an even more miserable and disappointing labor that had all left me worried that I hadn't bonded with my unborn child, and the anxiety that had built up about whether I could cope with two children, I surprisingly knew within those first few days that I was in the love.  The kind of ridiculous, sappy, I-can't-stop-kissing-his-soft-plump-cheeks in love.

Falling in love had been a slower process with Oliver. As I awkwardly adjusted to parenthood, it was like I had to learn how to love someone who literally had just appeared in my life.  One of the greatest surprises for me about becoming a parent for a second time is that falling in love with my child could come so much quicker . Knowing what my love for Oliver felt like, I almost immediately recognized the same feeling for my new son, and that was incredible.

The cynic in me couldn't help but feel vindicated too.  For all that I had read and comments I had endured about needing to bond with your child in utero, about how drugs during labor, c-sections and not doing skin-to-skin and breastfeeding immediately afterward (to my surprise, I was offered the opportunity to hold Soren immediately after his birth, but I declined because I was just exhausted and thought it'd be too awkward given that I was lying flat on my back and my arms were partially numb) affect your ability to bond with your child, Soren and I were doing more than fine. 

Used baby gear

When it comes to baby products, sometimes I wonder if recommendations about buying new isn't based solely on concern for safety, but with increasing company profits. First it was only car seats that experts were telling parents had to be purchased new, then when the law went into effect banning the manufacture of drop-side crib, suddenly all second-hand cribs, even if they hadn't been recalled and met current safety specifications, were a no-no.  I've even seen some sources warning parents that used crib mattresses are a SIDS risk and others saying that a car seat shouldn't be reused for a younger sibling because new safety features are being added all the time.  I obviously support strict standards of safety for products used for or by children, but what frustrates me is the blanket ban of classes of used products without either an explanation of why a second-hand product is unsafe or education about how to evaluate whether a product could be safely reused.  Sure it's easier to just say, don't reuse such and such, and buy new instead to guarantee safety.  (But given all the recalls, buying new simply for safety's sake can be a false sense of security.)  But parents are going to continue to seek hand-me-downs and honestly, buying new for many parents is not an option. 

Like many expecting parents, Chris and I were overwhelmed with everything we needed to prepare to welcome home a new baby and we bought as much second-hand as we could to save money.  I thought I was being thrifty when I bought a barely-used double-electric Medela brand Pump in Style Advanced breast pump from an acquaintance.  After I delivered Oliver, a nurse offered to show me how to use the pump, but was horrified when she found out it was used.  She explained that the way my pump was designed, there was the potential for milk to pass through the pumping mechanism, meaning that if my friend had a disease, it could be passed on to my baby.  I was frustrated that Medela is forcing every women who wants or needs to pump into buying an expensive new pump just because it designed a pump in such a way that it could potentially cause a transfer of disease, even though the company makes hospital-grade pumps whose design isn't a health risk for the pumps' multiple users.  I wasn't about to demand a medical history from the woman I bought the pump from, and Chris and I decided it wasn't worth the risk, so we threw it out, despite the voices lingering in my head of my mom and ueber-frugal maternal grandmother exclaiming, "That was a perfectly good pump!"

Turns out I didn't need that expensive pump.  Like so many other baby products I bought because everyone else said I needed them, I didn't evaluate the need for a double-electric pump based on my particular circumstances.  I was a stay-at-home mom who spent little time away from my baby and I didn't have time to pump anyway. 

But going back to work after Soren's birth made me look into breast pumps again.  I almost considered not pumping at all, given how unappealing it seemed to me, and then the prices of new pumps were stressing me out given all the other expenses I was incurring to get ready to go back to work.  Breastfeeding is touted as being cost-free, but that's only if you breastfeed on demand and never leave your baby, which really, how many can logistically pull that off, or want to do that?  So then you have the cost of bottles, the pump and a myriad other accessories associated with storing milk or cleaning bottles and pump parts.  But I had a supportive office environment and I didn't want to jeopardize my milk supply for breastfeeding outside of work, so I decided I'd give pumping a go.

When a friend offered to sell me her also barely-used Pump in Style Advanced pump during search number two, I told her I'd been down that road before.  Even though she assured me that her pump had not been "contaminated," and she's someone I trust greatly, I realized I wasn't going to consider buying even her pump if I didn't finally examine one and see for myself what the big worry was concerning milk getting into the pumping mechanism.  I happened to stop by another friend's house the next day, and I asked to look at her pump and have her explain to me how it worked.  I'd always assumed the milk passes through the two, long thin tubes that connect the breast shields and bottles to the electric pump, so as soon as that nurse in the hospital after Oliver's birth said that the pumping mechanism couldn't be sterilized, I never questioned the actual potential for contamination..  But once I saw that only air passes through the tubes and the expressed milk drips straight into the bottle and that it would take a major malfunction for milk to backup through those looooong tubes to reach the pumping mechanism, I completely trusted buying my friend's pump off her. 

And then I got really mad that so many women are being scared off from buying affordable, but used, equipment.  As a parent-to-be and then a new parent, I had no idea what to look for half the time.  I couldn't tell a useful piece of baby gear from a worthless, albeit, still safe, piece.  I trusted something just because it was new, even though I had no idea how to eveluate if the product would prove to be safe, (or eventually be recalled) and avoided everything I heard from whatever source, regardless of credibility, could be unsafe.  After being entrenched in the world of baby gear for a few years now, I feel like I have a better handle on evaluating used items.  There are many things I will buy off Craig's List or from consignment sales, and there are a couple of things I'll only buy from trusted friends like car seats and breast pumps.

Even if I threw one perfectly good pump away, I'm happy I didn't end up buying a brand-new one like I'd thought I would have to.  My friend has some extra cash for something she'll never use again and I'm keeping one piece of baby gear out of the landfill.

Missing Daddy

Oliver has been missing Daddy ever since Chris left for London for his J-term class.  The older Oliver gets, the harder it is for everyone when Chris leaves.  Oliver was not much more than a year old when Chris started traveling to Dallas, and because Chris's class and studying schedule meant that he sometimes went a whole week without seeing Oliver.  At that age, our little guy probably didn't notice the difference between not seeing his dad because he came home every night after his bedtime and not seeing him because he was in another state for the entire week.  As Oliver got older, though, he became more attached to Chris, and by the end of the project in Dallas the following summer, I'd have to take Oliver to the park while Chris waited for his taxi to the airport, because watching Dad leave after such a fun day of playing made him too sad.  (And me too.)     

Now that Oliver can talk, I must hear "I miss Daddy," 100 hundred times a day, and that's just while Chris is at work, let alone overseas.  (Chris swears Oliver says he misses Mommy when I'm gone, but I have trouble believing he says that with quite the repetition he employs to express his feelings about missing Daddy.)  So when it came time to leave for London, Chris chose to arrive at the airport four hours before his flight, instead of stopping at home between leaving work and needing to be at the airport. 

What Oliver doesn't understand at this age is how much he's still a part of his dad's life even when they're not together.  Chris and I have been fortunate to be able to talk to each other every day and a lot of our conversation consists of exchanging anecdotes about Oliver - from my end, updates of what he did that day and from Chris's end, stories about things that reminded him of Oliver or places he went or things he saw that he knows Oliver would have loved. 

Oliver loves buses so much that "bus" was one of his first words.  And what's a more iconic image of London than the red double-decker buses?  In between class and socializing with his professor and classmates at a nearby pub and attending his first English football match, Chris has been venturing out to see as much as London and he can.  He totes along a toy bus he bought as a present for Oliver, and along the way, he'll stop and take a picture of the bus against the backdrop of London city life.  And I know how much he looks forward to coming home and being able to show Oliver the pictures from his trip and what he and Oliver's new bus got to see.