I have written a funny (at least to me) post, but it requires editing and formatting that cannot be done on a mobile device. I don’t think I should blog from the desk of my new place of employment, and I have yet to muster the quiet alone time to fire up the old laptop at home. And so you must wait for that one.

I missed an appointment at work yesterday. Found myself at my desk right on time, which seemed good until I realized my appointment was about 3 miles from home – the place I had driven away from 30 minutes prior. Ugh. Home and work calendar sync has now been activated.

During my commute, I’ve been listening to audiobooks borrowed digitally from the library. The first one was delightful, and was a YA book recommended by an NPR writer I follow. The experience was so pleasant that it made me think YA audiobooks would be a good genre in general. The current listen is quickly shooting down that theory. I feel like I’m driving a bunch of whiney teens to work with me every day. And who needs that?

“Special” things needed for school in the next week: 2 bags of tootsie rolls for a children’s engineering project, giant tub of Greek yogurt for a cultural food tasting, mismatched socks, necktie, completed mobile for book report, costume to dress up like a vocabulary word, toga for class play, pajamas, extra snacks for testing, and a “special” drink. Do you think they mean a margarita for mom?

Good thing the electronic calendars are working together to save my brain space for all these important tasks, eh?

I’m sure you’ve all been waiting with bated breath to see how I am doing with the new job and the continuing demands of the Turningreen household. Breathe easy, gentle readers – all is well. 

The co-workers could not possibly be nicer. I felt very welcomed and at ease right from the first minute in the office. They gave me a plant for my office! I haven’t killed it yet! They bought pastries in my honor and convened an all hands on deck meeting for the sole purpose of hearing about me and sharing about themselves. Not our roles in the company, just about who we all are as people. Nice, huh?

I have successfully commuted to downtown (what my nephew calls “the big city”), without getting lost, hitting traffic, or hitting another vehicle. I have managed to park in a fairly sketchy looking parking garage with gigantic support poles that are not in the least bit minivan friendly, and I haven’t even dinged my van! 

My first “assignment” on the job involved coming up with a creative tag line for an event. Right up my alley, and the boss was gaga over my idea. Sweet! All in all, I love it. I love the schedule, I love the people, I love having an office where no children are sharing my office supplies! And I love the job.

This was a good week on the home front, thanks to the end of one sport season and a little help from grandma and the Mr. Next week, summer swim team starts (in the sure-to-be-frigid pool), so things will be a little more hectic from here on out. But we’re cool. We’re chill. We got this.

It has been interesting to see and hear the reaction of various women in my life as I transition back to the workplace. One woman who does not work outside the home seems to be literally foaming at the mouth with excitement in waiting for the day when she expects me to say, “Why did I do this? I had it so good before. I can’t handle this!” I do not anticipate saying any of these things, but I’m not going to ruin her anticipation by telling her.

Many, many friends have offered to help with my kids at anytime, if I need it. In all my years as a full-time SAHM, I was never so gracious to working moms. They put me to shame. But, you know – I’m just not that fond of other people’s kids. And my kids are really good. I’m not just saying that because I’m their mom – they are just no trouble at all, and sometimes even a good enough influence on other people’s kids that having them in the mix is helpful. (Does that sound unbearably braggy and obnoxious? Sorry, but it’s kind of true. )

In general, though, I wish that women could just be happier for each other’s successes and choices when it comes to home/work/life balance. There’s far too much judgement and even more competition. “It’s nice that you read books. I am sooooooooooo busy. I don’t even have time to read!” You know how it goes. I recently complimented a good friend of mine who works a full-time job and also manages to be a very present parent to her two kids (both older than mine). She has a very flexible job, but she really just doesn’t mention it. I mean, she talks about work and she obviously talks about home, but she never complains or competes in the “I’m busier than you” contest. She loves her job, she loves her kids, and she takes what comes with it with grace. You know, my sister does this, too, and she reads this blog – so I need to give her props, as well. Both of these women are my role models for how I want to handle the increasing demands on my time. But, I do, of course, reserve the right to complain on the blog, because what’s a blog without bitching???

Well, if I haven’t succeeded in perfectly organizing my life, our home, and our family’s schedule in the past 10 years as a full-time stay-at-home mom, I guess I won’t be doing it this week. I have run around like a chicken with my head cut off, making lists and checking things off, but clearly there will just be another list tomorrow and I will get used to getting things done differently.

So I decided to just enjoy my day and fill it with all the best things I have been able to do over the years by not working outside the home. Took a great workout class this morning, got a pedicure, having lunch with friends, and stopping at the mall before leisurely meeting the bus. Sounds like happy hour with the neighbors is in the works for this evening, too. And having Mother’s Day fall the very last day before I start the job is pretty much as appropriate as can be.

Yesterday, I went to school to read to our son’s class for the last time. Next year, he’ll be in 4th grade and they don’t have parents read weekly at that point. That has always been one of my favorite ways to volunteer at school, and he is always so happy to see me walk through the door with a stack of books. So it was a bittersweet time for me, made sweet by my own boy and honestly a little bitter by some of the other kids’ behavior! I think there is a reason why not every 3rd grade class still does the Mystery Reader thing. The kids are kind of over it, I think. I even had one kid come up to me and say, “Next time, don’t bring books from that series. I don’t like those.” Uh, yeah – thanks for letting me know, dude.

This week, we also experienced one of the dangers of getting farm food delivered all year long. During our winter share, we kind of got overwhelmed with pumpkins. (Just as we will soon be buried by watermelons.) I used the extra pumpkins to “decorate” around the house, until that became out of season and moved one to a wire shelf in the garage. When I went to get an umbrella from under that shelf on Wednesday — EEEEWWW. The pumpkin had imploded and was oozing down into the umbrella stand, which conveniently had a small hole in the bottom, making the nastiness creep out onto the concrete floor below. I started by opening all the umbrellas in the driveway and spraying them with a natural cleaner that the rain could rinse away. I’m sure all the neighbors were thinking, “Wow. That lady needs to get a JOB or something.” But, they weren’t close enough to smell the rotten pumpkin stench or they would have totally been on board with my plan.

Thankfully, the Mr. helped with the later stages of cleaning the floor, but getting the pumpkin goo to slide through the wire shelf onto a plastic bag below was all me. I had nasty pumpkin guts on my shoes, ankles, capri pants, rain jacket. Gross! Next year, pumpkins go from the mantel straight into the oven or the compost pile.

So although I am enjoying a sunny, warm, delightful day today, I am leaving you with a story of smelly pumpkin mess. Sorry about that. Maybe this will help get it out of your mind.

Puppies.

When I posted about what I overheard on the soccer field, I did it in the moment without giving you context. The coaches weren’t being harsh – they were just being really serious and earnest about their desire for these girls to learn the game and maybe enjoy a win. It was just so funny, because they went on and on as if they might whip out a Powerpoint presentation at any moment, and the girls had neither the attention span nor the vocabulary to follow along! The Mr. said that he can totally relate, after his many years of coaching kids soccer and lacrosse. It can be hard for an adult to put themselves in the shoes of a child standing out on a grassy field with a ball flying at her and a gaggle of grown ups screaming cheers and often conflicting instructions.

It is also hard to put oneself in 10 year old dress shoes and work clothes. That’s right, I’ve been excavating the old work wardrobe from the dustiest corners of the walk in closet. You don’t realize how much something as bland as business attire changes in a decade until you enter the lady suit time capsule that I explored today. Shoulder pads! Pleats! High waistlines! Nero collars! Hideous prints! Too long short sleeves and too short long sleeves! I mean, talk about context.

Thankfully, I do have enough stuff to get me started, and I will not need to wear suits very often. But I do think a brief shopping spree might be in order, too. Don’t you?

A dad to his daughter, 7 yrs old: “If you don’t start being aggressive and kicking the ball when it is near you, I’m not going to drive you to soccer ever again.”

Coach, to all girl team of 7-8 year olds: “When you are on defense, your job is to HARASS the other team. Just get in there and HARASS them like nobody’s business.”
(The whole time he’s speaking, a girl is raising her hand urgently and being shushed by the assistant coach. The head coach keeps going on and on with his harassment speech, and then finally lets the little girl speak.)

Girl: “What does harass mean?”

I’m going back to work! Part-time, but still a big adjustment for me and the family. I’m equal parts psyched and freaked. And over thinking every detail like only a mom can.