Back to Work

It's funny how life works out sometimes.   

Remember way back when, when I mentioned this awesome company called Montage Legal Group?  It was in a post where I was lamenting the lack of part time/flexible/freelance options for stay at home attorney moms.  Actually, what I wrote, way back in November 2011, was:

"Speaking of freelance work, through Twitter I have come across some companies that provide freelance legal services and primarily employ female attorneys with children.  Check out Montage Legal - the company's website states that it is 'a network of experienced freelance attorneys who left law firms to achieve a work-life balance.'  Um, hello?  You speaking to me?  Sign me up!"

Guess what.  They read it.  And they signed me up. 

In fact, I'm the lead attorney for the DC branch of the company, launching this week.  Here's the press release.  And here's the blog post (written by yours truly) announcing the launch on the Montage blog. 

How cool is that? 

To me the whole thing is genius.  There are so many moms out there, particularly in DC, with ivy league educations and experience at some of the largest law firms in the country.  Most of these women DO want to keep their foot in the door, but lack the opportunities.  Through Montage, these women are banding together, legitimizing their skills, and becoming the ultimate talent pool for law firms that need to hire lawyers on a contract basis. 

To say I'm excited puts it mildly.  This is a job, and hopefully I will make some money at it.  But more than that, I really believe in it - what it offers to women, what it offers to law firms, and what it stands for. 

In the meantime, if any law firms out there are in need of some experienced attorneys to do some freelance or contract work, shoot me an email at shannonf@montagelegal.com.  Or, if there are any ex-big-law stay at home mom attorneys in the DC area that are interested in joining, let's talk.

Here's to new endeavors. 

Worst Mom Ever Moments

I've had several of these.  I'm not going to describe each one, as I try to erase them from memory.  But a really, really bad one happened yesterday. 

So Braden is really scared of lawn mowers.  Like PHOBIC.  Which is weird, because he's actually obsessed with lawn mowers from a distance - in books, tv shows, lawns that are at least a quarter of a mile away.  But if we're ever near one, it's major freak out mode.  Major.  I've learned this, and we've adapted.  Not a big deal. 

Yesterday, when we got home from picking up Braden from school, our lawn service was here mowing our lawn.  So of course Braden starts panicking.  I pulled into our driveway, trying to talk rationally to him - Braden, isn't that lawn mower cool?  Yes, it's a little bit loud.  But it doesn't hurt you.  It won't touch you.  No, I promise, it is not coming in the car. 

A Diaper in My Purse

One of my mantras to Braden is that "no matter how old you get, you'll always be my baby."  It's one I find myself saying more and more to him lately, as he starts riding a bike and dressing himself and being embarrassed to hug me in public.  Being the adorable kid he is, he often repeats it back to me, saying, "Mommy, you'll always be my baby too." 

It melts my heart.  Because it's true.  He'll always be my baby. 

But in reality, I don't have a baby anymore. 

Somehow, just like that, my kids have graduated from babyhood.  With Braden I didn't really have time to think about it.  When he was officially becoming a toddler, I was pregnant and already preparing for the next baby - buying another crib, stocking up on 3-6 month clothing, and re-sterilizing bottles.  We never sold or stored the baby toys or the changing pads or the diaper champs - they barely had dust on them by the time Casey was born. 

And then there was the whirlwind of Casey - a joy, but also a shock.  We were thrown back into the madness of having an infant, on top of a toddler, and for a long while, we just managed to survive.  And then came my departure from my job and Braden starting school and life generally, and somehow time went by and both of my babies are no longer babies.  And for some reason, I am really mourning that.

For four years, I have had a diaper in my purse. 

What a Difference Two Hours Can Make

This school year has brought a new schedule and it's freaking amazing.  What it boils down to is that I have two free hours a day, between the hours of 1 and 3.  TWO FREE HOURS!

Well, I should clarify, they aren't completely free.  Casey naps during this time, so I am homebound.  But Casey is a master napper these days (oh bless you, angel child).  These two hours are pretty much guaranteed. 

It's not that I haven't had free time in the past.  Ever since staying at home, my boys have (usually) napped.  But their schedules would conflict, or one would rouse early.  And then Braden started his napping strike.  As a result, if I was lucky enough to get any free time,  I could never completely enjoy it because there was a constant threat of it being cut abruptly short.

But now?  These two hours are bliss.  For one, I eat lunch alone everyday.  Alone!  I wait to eat until Casey falls asleep, and then I take my time.  I sit on the couch and put my food on the coffee table.  I WATCH TV.  I eat oreos.  I don't have to tend to anyone or share my food with anyone or interrupt my lunch to wipe someone's ass. 

Four

It was birthday time again this past week - Braden turned 4.  (Or, "a little bit 4," as he would say). 

I love celebrating my kids' birthdays - I love all the excitement and joy and cake and presents.  All the stuff that adults don't indulge in anymore for themselves.  I don't know when birthdays lose their luster (I suppose around the age of 21), but there's something about celebrating your childrens' birthdays that brings that excitement back to you too. 

But apart from all the festivities, I love my kids' birthdays for what they mean.

It means that four years ago, I became a mother.  I changed, overnight, just like that.  It wasn't a conscious change, or one I was aware of at the time, but it was stark.  From the moment I laid eyes on Braden, I was a mother first and foremost.  Sure, I was still a wife, a daughter, a lawyer, a sister, a friend... but not in the same way I once was.  All of those roles became secondary to the purpose thrust upon me four years ago - to be a mom. 

I love this role - I love who I am in it.  I love that I am completely selfless when it comes to my kids.  Despite trying my darndest, I don't know that I've been able to truly do that with anyone else in my life.  I love my husband, but the fact is, if there's only one cupcake left, and we both want it, we'll fight each other for it.  Or maybe we'll offer it to the other, but deep down, we both want it.  I think that's just human nature.  But with my kids?  There's that weird thing called altruism.  Where you want what is best for them at any cost, even if at your expense.  I feel that big time.  And I LOVE that feeling. 

Frazzled

I try hard not to be that frazzled mom.  You know the one - always late, hair all disheveled, with a kid on one hip and another trailing closely behind with mismatched clothing.  No, I try to keep organized, arrive early, speak politely, and maintain a relative sense of calm. 

Not happening today. 

It started out as an ordinary day.  We had breakfast, watched Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and played downstairs.  We left the house around 9:45am for Braden's OT appointment.  I told his OT that I wanted to pick him up ten minutes early (at 10:50), so I could get him to school early.  After all, it was his first day eating lunch at school, and I wanted to arrive with ample time to get him settled. 

I had tracked my route ahead of time, accounting for traffic, construction, and traffic lights.  If I timed it right, I would get there ten minutes early  - at 11:20 - enough time to park, take him to the bathroom, and find the classroom. 

All was going swimmingly until I got on the Beltway and realized that the exit for Connecticut Avenue had a major back up.  After sitting practically still for 10 minutes, I started panicking.  It didn't help that the woman in front of me (in her sixties driving a BMW) was texting on her phone, didn't see traffic moving when it was, and kept letting people get in in front of her.  I finally ended up honking, at which point she opened her door, got out of her car, and told me to "Fuck off." 

Fog Lifting

I have been feeling oddly happy lately. 

Not that I don't have reasons to be happy - I have countless reasons.  But I have also had some reasons to be sad.  And angry.  And then add in an emotional breakdown and an acute anxiety episode and I've been hanging on by a thread a lot of the time. 

But for the past few weeks, I've just been calm. 

In early July my insomnia came back with a vengeance and I have been back on sleeping pills ever since.  I HATE this.  I HATE taking a pill to go to sleep.  I have accepted having to take other medications in my life, but these sleeping pills just make me angry.  The ones I take aren't technically "addicting," but for me, I think they are mentally addicting because I start to feel like I can't sleep without them.  So each night becomes a challenge - can I do it?  Which inevitably means no, I can't, because when you think about sleep, it doesn't come. 

Changes Are A'Coming

The end of the summer is nearing.  Pools are closing, vacations are ending, and the sun is setting a bit earlier every day.  But with every ending comes new beginnings, right?

I've got a whole slew of changes going on.

My baby boy will embark on his fourth year in a little over a week, which was commemorated this weekend with the fourth birthday party we have thrown in his honor.

This same baby boy is starting his new preschool on Wednesday.  I am far more petrified than he is. But he will be fine.

His new preschool is an afternoon program which means a new schedule for all of us.  It means lazy mornings and hectic afternoons and the official end of Braden's naps.  

And in just a few months, my other baby boy - my oh my god how are you almost two, you were only crawling yesterday baby boy - will be starting a 2's program in the mornings.  This means tears for him, tears for me, and the prospect of a few hours a week without any children. 

Which only makes me feel like I should have another child for some reason.  Luckily common sense and rationality are winning out on that one, for now.

And there are some major changes on the horizon for me.

Your Turn - Diane's Story

"Your Turn" is a series of posts where readers share their stories of parenthood, work, the struggle for a balance, or just life generally.  If you are interested in contributing a story, please email me at butidohavealawdegree@gmail.com or click here.

All through high school I assumed, and told my family and friends, that I planned to attend the University of British Columbia to become a lawyer.  At the time, I assumed that I would be a full-fledged lawyer by the time I was about 25 years old.  My time frame was a bit off.  I actually was called to the bar when I was 46.

As planned, I finished first-year University at 18. As not planned, I married and was five months pregnant at the end of that year.  I then dropped out of school and had four more children in the next six years.  My children ranged in age from three to 11 when my marriage fell apart.

Sadly, but fortunately for me, my father’s elderly bookkeeper died and I inherited the job.  I worked for my father for the next 10 years until he retired.  I could have looked for another bookkeeping job, but I was so bored that I actually hoped that the books would not balance so I would have the challenge of looking for the error.

It was time for a change.  After discussing it with my children, I decided to make an enormous change and go back to school.  It was not an easy decision. When I was going over the pros and cons, I said to my oldest son, “I will be 45 when I graduate.”  His response, “You will be 45 whether or not you go back to school,” helped me make the decision to give it a go.

Squeezing the Last Bit Out of Summer

Last month I looked at our calendar and saw a bunch of blank dates in August.  Blank meaning no travel, no family obligations, and the most frightening of all, no camp.  That's right.  I was facing two weeks of long days with both boys, where all activities would need to be planned by me.  

I really was not into it.  

So I filled the calendar up quickly, and for the past two weeks, I have been on the move.  In fact, by the time the week is up, I will have been through five states in ten days.  

The first stop on my east coast road trip was State College, Pennsylvania, for a weekend away with friends.  This was a seven hour round trip car ride, solo, which I actually enjoyed.  Three and a half hour blocks of time with no one's mouth to feed or ass to wipe doesn't happen for me often.  So I actually relished the journey, and had an amazing time.  

After my weekend of debauchery, I swung back to DC to pick up the kids and head out the next morning for another joyous seven hour car trip to destination number 2: Wilmington, NC.  My husband had to work (the nerve!), so I did this trip solo.  It was painful, no doubt about it.  I had to pull over every time Braden wanted a new DVD, had to pee, or just generally whined to the point that I couldn't take it anymore.  Casey was relatively calm, as long as I flung goldfish over my head towards him and broke out in song upon demand.